Chosen
by NordicFlags
Summary: Anya Marchese is constantly avoided in her Californian coastal home, where she owns her own business at age 18. But when a mysterious stranger shows up, her world is about to change drastically. DenmarkxOC, side SuFin. Warnings inside!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everybody! NordicFlags here! This my first fic here, so please go easy on me with the reviews! Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, Denmark and the other Nordics would have a LOT more screen time...say, the whole show would be about them. *bricked* **

**Warnings: Mild language, some adult themes (in later chapters; no lemon though), and Sweden's dialogue (also in later chapters) **

Idly, Anya Marchese strummed her delicate pale fingers against the desk in front of her as she took her seat. It was another boring day in her senior class, and she was looking forward eagerly to the final bell.

_'At least I can get out of here sooner today,' _she thought. _'Thank God for minimum days on Fridays.'_

Someone tugged at her silver hair, and she twitched an eye in irritation. Turning around, she fixated piercing green eyes on the culprit. The boy shrunk under her gaze, and she relented.

_'I hate how everyone tugs at my hair. It's like they've never seen silver hair before.'_

She was only fooling herself, she knew that. No one in the entire Bodega Bay High School body had hair like hers; or eyes, for that matter. They were like emeralds set in her head, and not only that, but they had a blue streak in them that rivaled the sea on a good day.

With a sigh, Anya ran a hand through said hair and prayed that the torture known as Calculus would end quickly.

Her prayer was answered. In what seemed like minutes, the final bell rang, and she walked as quickly as she could to her car. Her 6'0 frame and her pale skin was the only evidence of her Danish heritage, and it made her stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone else she knew were all tanned beautifully; only the goth kids were her shade of pale. Not only that, but she was known for her serious nature and she rarely smiled at anyone. Needless to say, she didn't have many friends.

Anya let out a relieved breath of air, and backed out of the school parking lot. She was all too aware of the sneers and mocking going on behind her back.

As soon as she was on the road, her worries melted away and she allowed herself to smile. The day was nice and overcast, and with a quick glance at the ocean, she determined the surf to be just perfect.

_'Homework can wait,' _she decided. _'I wanna surf.'_

She pulled over into the parking lot of a secluded beach, and once she opened the door of her car, the smell of the sea salt hit her nose. Her grin intensified, and she stripped, pulled out her wetsuit, and tugged it on.

With experienced ease, Anya pulled out her surfboard, hidden in the sand, and brought it to the water's edge. The water was deliciously cold against her unprotected feet, and she shivered in anticipation.

Running as much as the water would allow her, she hopped onto her board and paddled out to sea.

There were no other surfers at this time; it was right in the middle of December, when the sharks would come to breed. All the other people feared them, but Anya loved them. She had encountered her first shark when she was just learning how to surf at five years old. Despite being small for her age, she was fairly fearless. Anya had paddled out to the depth her father had told her to go, and out of the corner of her eye, saw the dark form in the water next to her. Not knowing of how dangerous sharks were, she had squealed with happiness, and reached out her hand to pet it.

It raised its head out of the water and bumped her hand affectionately. Her father yelled at her from the shore to pull her hand back, but she still remained fearless.

Out of nowhere, another shark came up and bumped her board gently, but with enough force to knock her into the water. When Anya resurfaced, the shark had come up below her and slid its body underneath her, positioning itself so that it could let her ride on his back. She had sat high on her perch, delighted that she had made a friend out of such a beautiful animal.

That had been the last day of her happiness. The next morning, Anya's father, Marcus, was struck by a car when he was walking across from their apartment to the little grocery store they owed. He had died instantly, just as she watched, unable to move, scream, or do anything.

Anya and her mother, Crystal had run the grocery shop, the Albacore Market, for about 13 more years until Crystal had died from a sudden bout of tuberculosis. Anya had been 18, so the grocery store was passed onto her. She had been running it for about six months now, and was reasonably well-off.

But that didn't matter now. She was surfing; all could wait.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw a shark's form, and she smiled. Ever since the death of her mother, sharks had been attracted to her and would nuzzle her hand from the water in a comforting fashion. She didn't mind though; they were the one constant thing in her life.

Reaching out her hand, she stroked the shark's hide. Right now, she decided, she was at peace.

Here, she was free.

By the time she finished surfing, Anya had to go immediately to work at the grocery store and work until 10 that night. In between customers, she got her homework done, and was relatively stress-free. The customer flow was good, so that meant she could pay her bills and the delivery men with no problem.

An older woman approached the cash register where Anya was currently stationed. "Anya, dear, you look so beautiful today!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Lipinski."

Grace Lipinski beamed, and then her gaze turned serious. "Anya, you will not believe it. You know that new grocery store just down the street?"

Of course she knew about it. That major-company grocery store was one of the biggest threats to her business. "Yes?" Anya replied, making it into a question.

"I shopped there a few days ago," Anya tensed, "and I regretted every moment of it. Everything was so overpriced, and they didn't even have some of my usual purchases." Grace shook her head of fading blonde straight hair and fixed a hazel gaze at Anya. "The rest of the community agrees with me, and no one is going to shop there anymore. Your store is far better."

She relaxed and allowed herself a small smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Lipinski. You don't know how much this means to me." Swiftly, she bagged the groceries, and handed them back to Grace, and the older woman walked out, along with the rest of the customers. It was a very good thing that the adults didn't believe the rumors about her; if they did, she didn't know what she'd do to support herself.

Anya let out a small sigh and was about to close up the store when out of the corner of her eye saw an unfamiliar form come through the door. She turned her full attention to it and frowned. It was a young man, probably a few years older than her. His golden-yellow hair stuck straight up, and blue eyes like the clear August sky were lit with anxiousness. His skin was pale, just like hers, and his height towered a good 3 inches above her own.

She was then struck with a brilliant, if not mischievous, plan. She walked into another aisle, then called out in Danish, "_Er der noget du har brug for?_ *Is there something you need?*" She was hoping to mess with the stranger a little bit, and make him think she didn't speak English.

However, much to her surprise, the stranger replied, "_Hvor skal du holde din kaffe? _*Where do you keep your coffee?*"

Secretly, Anya was delighted. She had not been able to practice her Danish with another person since her mother died; speaking her first language with another was thrilling. "_Én sok, vill jeg vise dil dig_. *One sec, I'll show you."

She walked over to the aisle where the stranger was, where he was studying the shelves. However, when he turned to look at her, his eyes widened like he recognized her. His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out to her, but he held it still.

Anya ignored the strange behavior and said, "_Er der en bestemt kaffe du leder efter?_ *Is there a specific coffee you're looking for?*"

The man cleared his throat uncertainly. "_Tja, fakstik, du kunne få din bedste kaffe?_ *Well, actually, could you get your best coffee?*"

"It's no problem," Anya replied, final switching back to English. She started to walk back to the coffee section, the stranger following. "If you don't mind my asking, what is this for?"

"Well…I spilled my good friend Lukas Bondevik's cup of coffee this morning. He's a little obsessive over it, so he got really mad and tried to strangle me."

Though she should've been appalled, Anya chuckled. Her father had been the same with his morning coffee, except he would only snap at anyone outside his family. That was one of the few memories she had left of her father; she was even starting to forget what he looked like. "And this is a peace offering. Nice. Ah, here we are."

She stood on tiptoe and grabbed the Turkish coffee from the top shelf. "I'll ring it up for you, and if you want, I'll put a ribbon on it."

"Please?"

Chuckling, she took it to the cash register and rung it up. While she was tying the red, white, and blue ribbon on it, the stranger offered his hand. "I'm Matthias Køhler. It's a pleasure."

"Anya Marchese," she replied, slipping her own hand into his larger one. However, instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the knuckles. The gesture sent a pleasing tingle through her system, and she turned pink. "U-Uh…"

He winked at her. "That's the reaction I was looking for," he said appreciatively. Matthias released her hand and glanced at her hair. "Do you dye it that color? It's really pretty."

She shook her head, clearing her face of the blush. "No. I was born that way, just like my mother." Anya laughed mirthlessly. "It gets me stared at a lot at school, though. It's not fun."

"School?" he asked. "How old are you?"

"I'm 18," she replied shortly.

Matthias's eyes resembled dinner plates. "What?! You look at least 21!"

Anya sighed. "Great. Owning my own business is aging me." She put her head in her hands. "Put me out of my misery, God."

As she looked up again, Matthias had gone rigid with shock and his mouth opened and closed, making a surprisingly good imitation of a fish. "How-? You're 18 and you own-?"

At this point, she was extremely glad that there were no other customers to witness this. She was embarrassed enough. "The grocery store was originally in my father's ownership, but he died when he was hit by a car when I was 5. Then my mother and I ran it until my mother caught tuberculosis and died. I've been on my own for about six months now. All the other employees are here until I get out of school and get here, then they clear out."

Matthias looked sympathetic. "Man. That sounds tough. When was the last time you had a day off?"

"Not in the last six months."

A thoughtful look crossed his face. "How do you manage it all? Homework and bills and all that?"

"Starvation and many sleepless nights." To prove her statement, she stifled a yawn, but could do nothing to stop the growl from her stomach. "Now what about you? What do you do?"

He grinned. "Well, I'm an ambassador for Denmark. My friends and I were staying here on a vacation. The American ambassador suggested this as a quiet, out of the way place for a vacation, so…here we are now."

Anya smiled warmly, a rare sight to see. "Well, then. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I will, Anya," Matthias said. With a wink and a salute, he waltzed out of her store.

Another blush appeared on her face. No one had ever winked at her or showed an interest in her. The feeling it gave her was unfamiliar…but not entirely unwelcome either.

**So? Good, bad? What did you think? Leave a review to tell me! ;3 **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, two chapters in one day. I'm too nice. Also, there's a famous line in here. Virtual hugs to anyone who catches it! ;3**

That night, Anya sat at her desk, bills overflowing around her. Thankfully, she could pay everything for that month and still have money left over for her to eat. Speaking of which, she had yet to eat dinner, but the bills were telling her she had at least another hour's work ahead of herself

She glanced up at her clock. Nearly 11 o'clock; wonderful.

A knock at her door caught her attention. '_Who'd be up at this hour?'_ She chuckled. _'Besides me, of course.'_ Heaving herself up, she trudged over to the door and answered it.

Much to her surprise, Matthias was standing, wearing a jacket tossed over a red T-shirt and black sweatpants over sneakers and carrying a few bags.

His face brightened. "Hey, Anya! _God aften! _*Good evening!*"

"Good evening, Matthias," Anya replied. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"To help you!" he replied cheerfully. He then looked at her suspiciously. "Have you eaten yet?"

To answer his question, Anya's stomach rumbled, and he looked triumphant. "Thought so. Would you like me to make you a proper Danish dinner?"

She was about to say 'no', but stopped. This (admittedly-handsome) was offering to cook her dinner. No woman that had _eyes_ would refuse an offer like that. Also, why not live a little and get to know this guy that actually took an interest in her. And if he was a murderer...he'd get to meet her Remington shotgun. "That actually sounds really good, Matthias," Anya said, smiling. She hadn't had a Danish meal since her mother died; the ingredients were hard to come by, and it took far too long.

Grinning broadly, Matthias stepped in and took in her apartment. "This is a really nice apartment you've got here, Anya."

She blushed at the compliment. "I guess. I don't have a large budget to spend on furniture, so what I've got works."

Though not completely up to date, her décor was nice. Simple paintings of the sea, done by her mother, hung on the dulled white walls and Anya had decorated around that. Her seating choices were over-stuffed blue couches, and a reasonably-large TV sat at the very back wall. The side tables were crammed with various knick-knacks; most of them related to the sea in some way.

"It's homey in a way," Matthias decided. "It's way better than what I could come up with. And I feel relaxed here."

Her face turned red at his gracious praises, and he chuckled lightly. Matthias turned straight into the kitchen and set his bags on the wood counters. "How do you feel about a full-course Danish dinner?"

"Why not?" She started to feel a tad self-conscious; here she was, standing in her pajamas, hair up in a half-assed bun, no make-up on, and a gorgeous man was here, making her dinner as though she was his girlfriend and this was a common occurence. But he certainly didn't look nervous in the least, and she berated herself for being so stupid.

He grinned like a kid in a candy store, and took off his jacket, setting it on a nearby chair. Anya quieted her surprised intake of breath at the sight.

Matthias Køhler was _ripped._ Muscle bound each of his arms, and his shirt was tight enough to show that there was muscle in his back, and with each movement, it rippled down his back. Definitely not lanky, she decided. She knew she should stop looking at him like a creeper, but it was a daunting task. _'It's okay,'_ she told herself. _'He's an adult, I'm an adult; it's not weird. And there's no rule against looking either.' _

Oblivious to her staring, he pulled out shrimp and a cocktail sauce; the appetizer, she remembered. Danish dinners were truly full-course meals; appetizers, soups, the main dishes, and the dessert. She had loved it as a child, and she loved it now.

He set it out for her to start on, and turned on her burner. Soup, she thought with relish. In this cold December weather, soup was a must.

"Does _hønsekødssupe_ *chicken soup* sound good?" he asked.

"It sounds perfect," she replied, proud of herself for not stuttering. She had thought that her control over her vocal chords would falter with his appearance.

Matthias continued on with the soup, cutting chicken, adding broth, and measuring spices. Soon, wonderful smells filled her kitchen, and she almost whimpered. Almost.

Glancing around, he studied her cabinets and Anya knew what he was looking for. Swiftly, she opened the nearest cabinet to her and pulled out two bowls. Almost shyly, she handed them to him. "Are these what you were looking for?"

He flashed her another wink, and she blushed scarlet. "Thanks, babe."

_'Babe?'_ she thought increduously.

Her bewildered look did not go unnoticed. Matthias's grin faded into a confused look. "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"N-No, but…I've never been called 'babe' before," she admitted sheepishly. "No one's every taken an interest in me, so I've never dated anyone. I'm not used to being called by an affectionate name."

His eyes widened. "What?! That can't be possible! You're gorgeous!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Matthias blushed as red as the Danish flag. "I-I mean…Aw, crap, now I've scared you off-"

"No, you haven't!" Anya protested. "I-I actually kind of…like it." She smiled despite her heavy blush. "I haven't been complimented by anyone near my age for a long time. It's nice." She crossed her arms, leaning against the countertop. "How old are you, anyways?"

"22."

"22," she murmured under her breath. _'That's not too bad. Just 4 years difference.'_

He smiled, and then turned, ladling soup for the two of them. "What is your school life like?"

Anya was snapped out of her reverie as a feeling of sorrow descended upon her. "Lonely."

Matthias widened his eyes, making it clear he wouldn't leave it alone. "But why? You're an amazingly strong person, and gorgeous to boot. I don't understand, and I would like to. I know it's not my place, but I'm very curious about you, Anya."

As he stared her down with those blue eyes, her will broke, and she let the truth slip. "I'm different from them, and in more than one way. Not only do I stick out from the crowd, but I own my own business and don't have any parents. The teachers are nice enough, but the students…" Hastily, she wiped away a tear. "They're cruel. They don't understand why I'm so often tense, how owning a business and juggling schoolwork along with it is aging me and and turning me into a middle-aged person before my time. And on top of that, they accuse me of being…" She trailed off.

Matthias walked over to her. "Of being what?" His tone was soft and coaxing.

Her reply was so low he had to strain to hear it. "Of being a witch."

He sucked in a breath. "But why?"

Tears overflowed; she couldn't hold them back, not when she'd been holding them in for so many years and months. "They know that I can speak to sharks and other animals."

Anya turned away from Matthias; she did not deserve his kindness. Not when so many people rejected her because of her freakishness. It was stupid of her to think like that, but after so many years of rejection, her mind had automatically assumed that anyone who knew about her would immediately push her away. A sadistic chuckle escaped her. "You were worried about scaring me off. I've probably scared _you_ off."

She heard his footsteps coming towards her and she was whirled around. Matthias's arms encircled her and held her tight. Her body was pulled tight against his, and she heard his heart beat in her ear.

"Don't," he told her. He sounded almost heart-broken. "Don't say that. You're not a witch. So what if animals like you? That's actually pretty cool."

"Y-You think so?" This was a first. No one had ever called it "cool"; most had called it "freaky" and "devilish".

"I know so." Matthias released her just enough for him to look at her. He raised his hand as if to stroke her face, but stopped mid-way. On impulse, Anya brought his hand to her face and leaned into his touch. A contented sigh escaped her lips.

"It's been so long," she murmured, "since I've had someone caress or touch me. I've forgotten how nice it feels."

A silly grin came over his face. "Then I'll have to make sure I touch you every day!" he promised. His smile dropped, and he turned red. "N-Not like that! I mean that I'd touch where it was appropriate and with your consent, I didn't mean-"

Though she was sighing on the outside at his rambling, Anya was smiling on the inside.

After a dinner of smoked eel, (her absolute favorite), Anya returned to her desk to finish the last of her bills. Matthias followed like a loyal puppy and made himself comfortable on the couch, playing with his I-Pad.

She spared him one last glance, and then threw herself into finishing the last of her bills. But her mind wandered. How had he found her address? Had he asked around? He didn't seem like the stalker type, so that had to be it. Satisfied with her deduction, she focused on her paperwork, but before she knew it, she was being gently awoken by Matthias.

"Anya, you can't fall asleep on your bills. Your back will not be happy with you in the morning. Trust me; I speak from experience."

"Nggh," was the reply.

His deep chuckle reverberated in her chest. "Well, if you're not to bed under your own steam-"

She felt herself being lifted up in his strong arms. Instinctively, she wound her arms around him and nuzzled into the hollow of his neck. Anya breathed in his scent; beer and…peppermint?

"'M not too heavy for you, 'm I?" she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You sound like Berwald." She didn't bother to ask who Berwald was; she was too tired to care. "Nah, you're alright."

Matthias carried her easily and she felt her bed coming up to accept her. But as he pulled away, she murmured, "Don't go. 'S too cold in here t' be alone."

He hesitated, and then sat down next to her. "Are you sure?"

In reply, she moved up against him and curled up like a cat next to a generator. "'M positive."

"Alright then." He kicked off his shoes, then lay down next to her and wrapped her firmly in his arms. "Warm enough?"

"Mm. G'night, Matthias." Her trust for this man had already grown exponentially. If he had been an axe murderer, he would have already done away with her when she had first falllen asleep on her bills. Why delay her death if he had wanted to kill her?

Just before she nodded off again, she thought she heard him whisper, "Good night, my darling."

The next day, Anya woke up to an empty cold bed. Her heart hurt when she came to terms with it.

_'I should've known he'd do something like this,_' she thought sadly. _'It's like a one-night stand.'_

As if in response and defiance of her thoughts, Matthias walked in, that silly grin still on his face. "_God morgen, kære!_ *Good morning, dear!*"

She glanced at her bedside clock. "More like _God eftermiddag _*Good afternoon*." She refused to accept the glad feeling she had in her gut at the sight of him. "It's 1:30, why didn't you wake me up?

"'Cause you looked too cute to disturb, that's why!" he replied cheerfully.

She rolled her eyes, and then froze. "Oh, no! I overslept and today's my day to work!" She scrambled to get out of bed, but Matthias put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"Relax. Your employees left a message on your phone, saying that they would take care of the store for today, and that you should take a day off. _Gud ved du har brug for det. _*God knows you need it.*"

At this, Anya relaxed slightly. "But I don't know what else to do. I've finished all my accounting and all my bills are paid, so…"

"Why don't you just go out?" he suggested. "What do you like to do? Go do that." His eyes added the plead, _'And take me with you.'_

Anya sighed. "Have you ever surfed before?"

"No, but I can learn!"

She slid out of bed. "Then I hope you don't mind sharks."

As she expected, Matthias backed out when he heard there were going to be sharks, but he still tagged along with her to the beach.

"Where's your board?" he inquired.

"At the beach. I keep it hidden in the sand."

"Seriously? But what if someone steals it?"

"I find them. It's very easy for me."

"Ah." He did not inquire further.

Matthias looked on in wonder at her private beach as she pulled in. "Wow. This is beautiful!"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, it is. No one comes here except me."

"Is there a reason?"

"This is the breeding ground for great whites," she explained. "They're fairly volatile, so no one dares to surf here."

"Except you," he pointed out.

"Except me," she confirmed.

While she changed into her wetsuit, Matthias leaned against her silver Volvo, looking away from her for modesty's sake. "Have you ever been attacked by a shark?"

Anya paused for a moment, thinking. Would the time where she encountered her first shark count as an attack? "No, I haven't," she mused. "It's very strange. All sharks have been very friendly to me, even when I was little. During my younger years, they would give me rides on their backs, and now, they'd give me little nudges on my board to help me catch a wave." She put her arms through the sleeves of her wet suit. "It's very strange," she repeated.

She tried to reach behind her to zip up her wetsuit, but Matthias took the zipper and did it for her. His fingers brushed up against her bare skin and she shivered slightly. "Cold?" he asked.

"No." Rather, it created the opposite feeling; she felt warm and tingly all over.

To save herself from further embarrassment, she walked down quickly to the beach and grabbed her board. Luckily, she had remembered to braid her waist-length hair so it didn't get tangled in the surf.

She ran into the water and paddled out far into the bay. Somehow, she knew that there were sharks below her, but as usual, it didn't bother her in the least.

Sure enough, just as she was about to miss the perfect wave, a nudge gave Anya the ability to catch it and surf. Right in her line of view, Matthias sat on the beach, watching her with those sky-blue eyes that were lit with amazement.

Anya smiled and turned her attention back to the waves…

Just to see a great white leap out of the water in front of her board.

Deciding that her board could be replaced, she dove off the side and into the water. The board hit the side of the shark and it let out a strangled cry of pain.

Compassion for the animal flooded her and she swam towards the shark. "Hey there," she soothed. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

It quieted and she ran her hand over the hit area of skin. "You big baby," she chided. "It hasn't even scratched you." Playfully, she smacked its tail. "Go on, get going. You'll be alright."

The shark nuzzled her hand and swam into the deep. Chuckling, Anya mounted her board and paddled back to shore, deciding that it would be wise to calm Matthias down. But as she glanced up at where Matthias was sitting, she realized that they weren't alone. Four other men were staring at her, one of them with a wide-open mouth. Anya marched over there with her board tucked under her arm, casting wary eyes at each of them. "Matthias, who are your friends?"

At the sound of his name, Matthias jumped to his feet in excitement. "Glad you asked! This scary man right here is Berwald Oxenstierna." He put his arm around the tallest of the five, an intimidating blonde with icy-blue eyes and glasses. His face bore no expression whatsoever, and Anya ignored the impulse to run. "He's the ambassador to Sweden."

"N'ce t' meet ya," Berwald nodded, extending his noticeably huge hand to her. She took it and shook it firmly. A small smile appeared on his face. "Th's is m' w'fe, T'no Vainämöinen," he continued, gesturing to the smaller blonde beside him.

Tino's violet eyes widened. "Be-Berwald! We haven't even gotten properly married yet!"

"You two are engaged?" Anya asked. At Berwald's nod, she cracked a small smile. "Congratulations."

"T-Thanks," Tino stuttered bashfully. Berwald looked down to his "wife", and with surprising speed, kissed Tino's cheek. Mentally, Anya went "Aww."

"I'm Lukas Bondevik, the ambassador to Norway," a blank-faced man introduced himself. His purplish eyes were almost completely void of emotion and his beige hair had a very small gravity-defying curl at the nape of his neck. "Matthias gave me the coffee yesterday, and I had a cup this morning. My compliments to you." He turned to the smaller male next to him. Strangely enough, he looked as though he was fighting back…tears? "This is my younger brother, Emil Steilsson. He's the ambassador to Iceland."

The white-haired man (though he looked to be slightly younger than herself) in question twitched a violet eye in irritation, the tears gone. "I'm not your little brother!"

Despite Anya raising an eyebrow in question, the two turned to argue with the other. She decided it was futile to separate them and turned her attention back to the other three. "So you're all ambassadors on vacation?"

Berwald nodded. "Th'ght m'bye w' should t'ke a bre'k."

She processed his words, and then answered, "Then welcome to Bodega Bay."

"U-Um, ma'am," Tino said timidly. "Pardon my asking, but was that a great white shark out there?"

"Yes," Anya replied. "And call me Anya. 'Ma'am' makes me feel so old. "

"How were you not eaten?"

"'Cuz she's awesome, that's why!" Matthias interjected. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. She flinched slightly at his strength, but overall, she felt warm and protected inside.

"Thanks for the introduction, but may I go surfing now?" she asked. "The waves coming in are perfect."

At that, Lukas looked to the sea. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "The clouds coming in look suspicious."

Anya looked up at the sky. Black clouds were rolling in, but she felt no fear of it, though she knew she should've. "It's okay," she said finally after a moment of contemplation. "I've surfed worse. And if it gets bad enough, then I'll see if the sharks are willing to give me a ride back to shore."

Before Matthias or any of the others could stop her, Anya ran into the waves once more.

Almost immediately, Anya saw the mistake she had made. The waves were far bigger than she had thought, and they tossed her around like crazy. _'Time to go back in,'_ she thought.

She turned her board back to shore, and started to paddle. Looking up, she saw Matthias waving his arms at her. She wouldn't have known that he was scared has she not seen the panicked look on his face. Anya understood why he was so scared when she felt the waves start to churn backwards, dragging her and her board with it.

On the shore, Matthias was yelling like a mad man and tried to make a dash for the water. Berwald held him back, but he too looked worried.

The water was then lifted into the air, Anya and her board included, and started to spin violently around in a tornado. A scream escaped her lips and she shut her eyes tight.

_'Please just let this be a nightmare!'_ she prayed desperately.

But it was no nightmare. This whole experience was very real and for the first time in a long time, Anya felt terror course through her veins.

_'Just let this end!' _

Her head connected with her board, and Anya's vision went black.

**Hoo, boy, this should be good! Where the heck did the tornado come from? Remember, reviews are awesomer than Prussia! *bricked by Prussia* XD **


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so this chapter, we're going to be getting into how Anya finds out the truth about 'Matthias.' Note: Denmark is going to seem like a jerk this chapter, but don't worry, I remedy that later in the story! But for now, enjoy Insensitive!Jerk!Denmark. ;3**

Anya felt the water underneath her board flow up and down gently and she cracked open an eye. The sunshine burned her eyes, so she shut them again tightly. Slowly, she opened them to give them time to adjust and looked around.

Land was nowhere in sight.

_'I'm in the middle of the ocean,'_ she thought. _'I don't even know how long I've been out or have an idea of where I am.' _

A wave of water hit her bare feet and she recoiled in shock. _'This water is freezing,' _she thought in disbelief. _'Am I even in the Pacific Ocean?' _

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw a form swim slowly underneath the surface of the water. _'I hope that it's only sharks._'

She focused on the form, and then, much to her surprise, a human head popped vision was blurry, but she could just barely make out pale skin, a heart-shaped face, and…was that silver hair?

The woman brought a hand out of the water and gently stroked Anya's face. She murmured something indistinctive, and moved strands of hair out of Anya's eyes.

Suddenly, the woman looked towards something in the distance, and her hand tensed. She dove deep, green-and-silver flashing in the sunlight.

"Don't go," Anya rasped after the mermaid, but it was too late. She was gone. A second later, she realized why she had fled. A ship was looming on the horizon, and she registered the dragon carved on the front.

_'A Viking ship? What?'_

The ship was heading her way, and as it drew closer, Anya just barely heard the men on board speaking in a rough tongue. But her conscious was becoming weak; she heard them yelling something, but it all sounded like mud to her.

The oncoming waves from the ship caused her board to slip out from underneath her. Too weak to swim, Anya slipped underneath the waves.

The never-ending blue around her didn't frighten her; rather, it created a feeling of peace that she hadn't felt for so long. _'If this is death, then it's not so bad.'_

Suddenly, she felt someone grab onto her arms and hoist her to the surface. She took a small breath of air, and the peaceful feeling vanished. A deep voice from beside her called out, but still she could make nothing out. Her mind was once again slipping into unconsciousness as she was ferried to the ship.

Someone opened one of her eyes, and just before she passed out, she saw a pair of sky-blue eyes filled with concern and curiosity.

***Chosen***

When Anya woke again, she was lying in animal blankets that protected her from the cold she felt on her face. Her head swam, and she groaned in pain.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked in Danish.

She shook her head to clear it of any lasting fogginess, and looked around her. Wherever she was, it was very dark.

"Yes," she said hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"Denmark," the voice replied. "My house."

A candle was lit, and Anya looked into the eyes of Matthias. Though she recognized him, he clearly didn't recognize her. "My name is Denmark," he said. "A pleasure to meet you."

Anya stared in disbelief. What kind of madman was this? "How are you Denmark? You're a man, not a land mass."

Matthias, no, _Denmark_ chuckled. "Obviously. But my job is an important one. You see, I'm the spirit of the nation, in this case Denmark, put into a human body. As long as I'm still alive and kicking, that means my home is thriving. I suppose you could call me a symbol for the nation to look to."

As her vision adjusted, Anya noticed that he was wearing what looked like red and black tunic thing with leather shoes and a belt with a knife around his waist. A headband wrapped around his head, and she noticed with amusement that his hair still stuck straight up.

"What year is it?" she asked, curious.

He looked at her a little funny. "You must've hit your head pretty badly. It's 1332."

_'Phew. Just missed the Viking period.'_ During the 11th century, she remembered, Denmark had been Christianized, so now men were less likely to treat her like crap as Vikings did back then.

He knelt by her and handed her a wooden cup with water inside it. "Drink up," he urged. "You'll need it. When we found you, you were very near dehydration."

Anya sat up slowly and accepted it. The water cooled her burning throat, and she felt much better. Her mind became sharper, and then she realized that she was still in her wetsuit. "Do you have any clothes I could use?"

Denmark blinked. "U-Um, well, no, but-"He looked hopelessly confused. "What about your skin?"

It took a moment, but it finally dawned on her, and she began to laugh. Poor Denmark looked bewildered. "What did I say?"

"I-I'm sorry," she gasped between laughs. "I-It's just…my wetsuit's not a _skin_!" And with that, she burst out into more laughter.

A few moments later, she calmed herself and wiped away the tears that had formed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you; where I'm from, this is used to keep us warm in the water."

She stood shakily with Denmark's help, and then steadied herself. "My name's Anya, by the way," she continued. "Anya Marchese."

"A pleasure," Denmark smiled. He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. The blush that formed on her face afterward made him grin wider. "Now about those clothes-" He glanced up and down her curvy figure. "I'm not sure you really need any more than that."

Anger boiled in her, and before she knew it, Anya drew her hand back and delivered an almighty _SMACK _to the side of his face. He fell to the ground from the sheer force of it, nursing the red handprint on his face.

_ 'What the heck? He was such a gentleman before; what happened?'_

"Idiot," she muttered in English. To Denmark in Danish, she said, "For that remark, you're buying my clothes."

Denmark stood and glared at her. It probably would've looked terrifying under normal circumstances, but with the handprint on his face, it looked pretty silly. "And if I don't want to?"

She grabbed him by the front of his tunic and shoved him against the wall. Grabbing the knife, she held it against his neck and got into his face. "Then I will be more than happy to make you pay." Her voice had taken on a threatening note, and Denmark cowered slightly. _'Good. Show him who's boss here.'_

"Let's go get you some clothes, shall we?"

Satisfied, she released him from her death grip on his tunic. "Thought so. Do you have a cloak I can borrow for the time being?"

Keeping an eye on her warily, he walked to his trunk and opened it, digging around and pulling out the requested cloak. As he handed it to her, a loud growl came from her stomach. He eyed her suspiciously. "Should've known you'd be hungry. How long were you out in the ocean?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. I was unconscious until...how much time has passed since you found me?"

"Two days."

"Until the morning of two days ago," she continued. "I don't know much more than that."

Sighing, he took her hand, and led her out of his room to a wooden hallway. They went to the very end of it, and Anya slowly went down the stairs, being careful to not exert herself. At the bottom, she stared out at the large sitting area with a beautifully-made furniture with animal skins serving as blankets. Various animal heads adorned the walls, and a stone hearth with a roaring fire was situated at the back. She glanced out the window to see where they were; a dense forest surrounded them on all sides.

"If you're thinking of escaping, by all means, go ahead," Denmark said mockingly. "Good luck finding your way out of those woods without help. You'd be dead in an hour, what with the wolves running around."

Anya narrowed her eyes at him. "Stupid. I was looking out to see what was out there, not looking for an escape. I do know that even though I don't know you, I stand a better chance surviving with you than out there."

His ear twitched in irritation, but he did not reply.

***Chosen***

By the time Anya was properly fed and her strength had returned, it was late afternoon. Denmark led her through the forest that separated the large two-story house from the village in nervous silence, while Anya gazed around her in wonder.

Despite the freezing temperature, there was no snow on the ground to disguise the fact that everything was brown and sleeping for the winter. But it was beautiful all the same.

A twig snapped, and Anya's head snapped up. Looking over, she saw a wolf pack staring at her curiously. Denmark noticed them as well, and took hold of his large battle axe. "Get behind me," he commanded.

Mentally, she scoffed. How could he not tell that if the wolf pack wanted to attack them, then they would have done so already? They had let themselves be heard, so they meant no harm to them. They were merely curious.

Instead of getting behind him like he had wanted, Anya walked boldly towards the pack and sat down on her knees. Holding out her hand, she gestured for the pack to come closer. "It's okay," she cooed. "You can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

The leader looked up at Denmark and Anya understood. "Denmark, put the axe down," she told him without breaking eye contact with the wolf. "You're making them nervous."

"But-"

"Put it down before I take it away from you." She spoke to him as though he was a small child that would not obey. Even without turning around, she could tell that he was pouting as he set the axe on the ground.

Finally, the pack approached her and sniffed at her experimentally. She did nothing except hold out her hand to the leader. He sniffed her knuckles, and then licked them.

Slowly, as to not scare him, she reached up and scratched him behind the ears. The wolf's tongue lolled out with pleasure, and immediately, the others in the pack were clamoring for her attention, whining and yapping.

Anya began to laugh with happiness at their actions. "Aww, you're all so cute!" she gushed.

Suddenly, the pups in the group, who had been held back by their mothers, were squirming around in her lap and she let out a squeal of excitement. "AWWWW!"

Denmark watched this with disbelief. _'This can't be the same girl that threatened me with a knife just a few hours ago. It just can't be.'_ But as he observed further, he realized that she looked…beautiful sitting there among the wolves. Sure, she was pretty to begin with, but with the wolf pups, she looked like the picture of beauty. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight.

Anya must've felt his eyes on her because she looked up and locked gazes with him. But instead of her cold guarded glare, it was a softened happy look, where she actually looked at him with pleasure. His heart melted inside his chest, much to his surprise.

_'What's the matter with me? Why am I staring at her like that?' _

***Chosen***

Anya studied the cloth at the market stall. She had already bought a needle, thread and a small knife to cut fabric, and there were a few colors that she liked, but she was having trouble deciding between purple and blue for her shirt.

Denmark stood a distance away, glaring at any man that dared glance at Anya for too long. Though to Anya, he complained, "Come on, pick one or the other. It doesn't matter."

To get him to shut up, she picked the purple roll of cloth and was about to pay for it when another young man, who had slipped Denmark's notice, paid it for it himself.

Anya looked at him in surprise. "You didn't-"

"I know," he smiled. "But I wanted to."

He picked up her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I'm Nikolai. Nice to meet you."

Anya blushed accordingly, both from the kiss on the knuckles and the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Hazel eyes smiled at her from a tanned chiseled face, and brown hair fell to his shoulders in waves. His hands felt calloused and rugged, but they lacked the strength Denmark had. And for some reason, she didn't feel quite as fluttery as she did when Denmark looked at her like that.

"I'm Anya," she replied simply. "It's nice to meet you as well."

Right as she finished her sentence, Denmark shoved himself in between them. "Nikolai," he growled. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing, you idiot?" Anya hissed, but he paid her no mind.

"Going to play her like you've played every other girl in this village?" he continued.

Nikolai's eyes narrowed. "And what if I'm serious about her?"

Denmark scoffed. "That's what you said about the last three girls. When will you learn to actually be content with one girl?"

The other man grumbled, well aware that they now had an audience. Finally, he shot one last glare at Denmark and shuffled off.

Once he disappeared, the village people went back to their own business, while Anya gave Denmark a puzzled look. "You knew he was a player, and you protected me from his advances," she stated. "Any particular reason?"

He scowled and turned away. "You don't need to be with the likes of him."

Anya smiled internally, but did not press the matter. She simply walked over to the shoe stall and selected a pair of black leather boots and warm black socks. The man at the stall looked down at her bare feet and inhaled sharply. "Miss, you may have the shoes for free."

"But-"

The shoe maker shook his head. "You don't have shoes in the coldest part of the year. I make exceptions for that."

After a few minutes of arguing with that man, she finally gave up and took the shoes and her other purchases back to Denmark, who was chatting with a few other men.

Rolling her eyes, she walked right past him and traveled out to a small secluded cliff area by the sea. Plopping down and leaning against the rock, she pulled out the roll of purple cloth and measured out the needed amount of material. Her chest would prove to be a contributing factor to the size of her shirt, but she had had experience with sewing. After all, she couldn't always go out and buy her clothes, so she simply bought material and made it herself. It was times like these that she praised her mother for teaching her how to sew.

As she ran her needle through the material, she unzipped her wetsuit just enough to expose her torso and shivered. Her black bikini top was nowhere near heavy enough to protect her from the cold, so she hurried to put on the shirt on and make adjustments. It was a little loose in the sleeve area, but that could be easily fixed. The pants were somewhat more difficult, seeing as how her legs were so long, but she managed.

Just as she was pulling off her wetsuit to change into her outfit, Denmark came running around the corner. "There you are, I've been-" He froze when he realized that she was nearly completely naked.

Her pale skin was flushed with red, and she let out a shriek of fury. "You-You-You PEEPING TOM!"

She picked up a good-sized stone and hurled it at him. It connected with his head, and he let out a yelp of pain. It did, nothing, however to stop her attack on him.

"GET AWAY FROM HERE BEFORE I MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER HAVE CHILDREN!" she screeched, hurling more and more rocks at him.

Denmark, fearing for his nether regions, got out of range from her as quickly as possible. Letting out an indignant huff, she tugged on her clothes and folded her wetsuit neatly.

_'Now how do I get back?' _

***Chosen***

Denmark came running up to the other four nations that were busy lugging their new objects from the latest trade voyage back to the house. "Guys! Will you listen to me?"

Norway sighed. "Do we have a choice?"

"Not really, no." Denmark then launched into a description of all that had happened that day, starting with how the wolves had been as tame as dogs with her, then how Nikolai had made a pass at her, which Sweden winced at. He had always felt sorry for the poor girls that had had their hearts broken by him. Finally, Denmark finished with when he had accidently walked in on when she was changing.

Finland raised an eyebrow. "Lemme guess; she threw pebbles at you."

Denmark winced. "Try a stone the size of my fist. She's got a good arm on her, and her aim's pretty good, too. She caught me right in the head."

Iceland looked impressed. "I like her. Can we meet her?"

"Well, you're about to."

The group of 5 whirled around, and their eyes widened. A woman with startlingly silver hair and green and azure eyes was standing a distance away, glaring at Denmark. But the strangest thing about her was her manner of dress.

Her purple shirt was long-sleeved, and reasonably tight through the torso, and her pants were more like black leggings that ran down the length of her long legs, ending in the boots she had bought that day. It was all covered by the cloak she had borrowed, and with her hair and eyes, she looked unearthly. Surrounding her was a pack of wolves, and the leader stood next to her protectively, growling. Norway would put money on it that the growl was aimed at Denmark.

"Stand down, Fenris," she told the wolf, and he sat on his haunches, still aiming a glare at Denmark. His pack did the same, except they laid down at her feet, keeping an alert eye for trouble.

Her eyes narrowed. "Now, do you wanna explain why you left me alone out there when I had no idea how to get back to your home?"

Norway smacked him upside the head. "You moron! You left her alone?!"

Denmark whined pitifully. "Well, can you blame me? You were throwing stones at my head!"

"You could've at least waited at the edge of the forest for me," Anya snapped. "At least Fenris and the others were in the area and helped me." Walking forward, she slapped him across the face once more.

"Geez, can't you do anything else?" Denmark asked, rubbing his abused cheek. "You fight like such a girl."

A dangerous glint in her eye made the others back up. "Ex-_cuse_ me?"

Braver now, Denmark stood in front of her squarely. "Did I stutter?"

She bared her teeth in a feral snarl. "You're askin' for it now, buddy."

"Asking for what, exactly?"

In response, Anya clenched her fist and introduced it to his jaw. He was swept to the side by the sheer strength of her blow, and stumbled to the ground. "That."

He glared up at her. "Ya know, I normally don't hit girls, but for you, I'll make an exception."

With unnatural speed, he was on his feet again and was fast approaching her with his fist. However, Anya moved faster and ducked under his blow. She grabbed his arm and using it as leverage, leapt up and planted her foot into his face.

As he fell backwards, she pushed off from his face and turned a backflip onto her feet a good distance away. He fell flat on his back with an audible _THUMP._

She glared daggers at him. "Still think I fight like a girl?"

He sat up and spat blood out of his mouth. "Nice moves," he sneered. "But have you ever handled a weapon before?"

"What do you think, idiot? Of course I have. Rapier, sword, battle axe, bow and arrow, throwing knives, mace and shield; take your pick, I've handled it."

She wasn't lying. When she was very little, she had expressed a want to learn how to handle weapons. Being the Daddy's Girl she was, she had gotten her wish and quickly became her teacher's top student. She had been praised as a prodigy, and could've gone to nationals if she wanted to, but her parents lacked the proper funding needed.

Denmark crouched, and shot a confident smirk at her. "Great. Then you won't mind dueling with me tomorrow. Meet me on the beach at noon. If you win, I'll get you whatever you want from my stash, but if _I_ win, then you sleep in my room for the rest of your stay here." His smirk intensified. "Whether or not you actually sleep is up to me."

Anya longed to wrench his head off, but losing her temper now would do her no good. "Fine." She did not bother boasting; she had no idea what his skill set was, and she didn't want to make claims she couldn't follow through with.

The wolves got on their feet, and she walked back to them. "I'm afraid that I will not be sleeping in the same house as you until tomorrow, Denmark," she said coolly. "I will see you tomorrow at the beach."

And with that, she walked off into the night with the wolf pack on her heels.

When Anya was out of sight, Norway wrapped his hands around Denmark's neck and began to strangle the Dane. "You moron! How could you challenge a girl to a duel she cannot win, especially without a weapon?!"

Denmark quickly removed the Norwegian's hands from his throat and gasped for air. "Why is it my fault? She was asking for it."

"Doesn't matter," Finland argued. "Right now, what you need to do, Denmark, is find her and apologize."

"Ya r'lly should," Sweden agreed quietly.

Denmark crossed his arms defiantly. "No way. Not happening. Not unless she apologizes first."

The remark was rewarded with a smack upside the head from Norway. With a sigh, the Norwegian nation grabbed his sword Håbe *Hope* and set off in the direction of where the woman had left. "Well, if you're not going to help her, I will."

"Norge, you get back here!" Denmark commanded, but Norway paid him no mind, and concentrated solely on finding Anya.

**Uh-oh, looks like Anya has a temper. If I was in Denmark's shoes, I'd probably be hiding behind China's Great Wall to make sure she didn't kill me. Then again, maybe she could break through it...that'd suck for Denmark. 0_o **

**Review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, everyone! Sorry for the late update. I was at the doctor today and found out that I need an MRI on my knee. Don't know what's going on, but I really hope it doesn't affect me for too long. -_- **

**On another note, special thanks to et12356 for the wonderful reviews! (So far, she's the only one that's reviewed. What the heck, people?) I hope that I made Anya seem less Mary Sue-ish. And I have big plans for her later in the story. ;3 **

**And if you noticed that I've finally got line breaks here, its because I finally figured out how to get it to work. ^J^" It took me a couple chapters, but I've got it down...I think. **

**Enjoy! **

Driven by her internal rage, Anya walked down to the beach after the wolves had sped off to their caves to try to calm herself down and think about what she had done.

Sitting down on a rock, she resisted the urge to smack herself. Damn her and her fury! Now she was going to a duel tomorrow without a single weapon to assist her.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she told herself, putting her palm to her forehead over and over.

"What's the matter?"

Anya jumped a mile when she heard the voice. "What the-?"

"Over here," the voice called from the water's edge.

Curious, Anya followed the voice and climbed over the rocks to the nearest tide pool. The moon came out and illuminated the woman sitting there, her greenish-silver tail halfway in the water. Silver hair just like Anya's cascaded down her back and her front, keeping her somewhat modest. Eyes just like Anya's stared at her curiously, and pale wet skin sparkled in the moonlight. But that wasn't what shocked Anya the most.

The mermaid that was staring at her was none other than her deceased mother, Crystal.

"What's the matter?" she repeated.

Anya couldn't reply; shock had frozen her mouth. It was a younger version, but it was most definitely her mother. They say seeing is believing: she had the seeing part down fine, all she had to do was work on the believing part.

_'Pinch me,'_ she thought. _'I'm dreaming.'_

"Hey, how many times do I have to repeat myself?" Crystal asked, sounding more amused than annoyed.

That snapped her out of her trance. "O-Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Crystal laughed. "I'm Crystal, by the way." She held out a webbed hand for Anya to shake.

Despite her mind telling her that this was all just an illusion, Anya took her mother's hand and shook it lightly. "Anya."

Crystal tilted her head. "Anya," she repeated slowly. "That's a beautiful name. A mer name, if memory serves me correctly. It's only reserved for…" She shook her head. "Forgive me; I forgot that humans don't have the same rules for names as mer do." She patted the rock next to her. "Please, sit next to me. I don't know any humans, and I'd like to get to know you a little more. I was the one that saw you out in the ocean, you know."

Anya's lips turned upward and she did as her mother had asked. Crystal had always been very open and friendly with everyone, and even now, it didn't seem to differ.

"So, what has you beating yourself over and over?" she asked.

Anya sighed and kicked at the frigid water below her feet. "It's just…my temper got the best of me, and that made a guy ask me to a duel. I don't have a weapon, and its tomorrow." She sighed slightly. "I was the best in weapons back home, but my biggest fear is that I won't win tomorrow. I don't like being seen as weak."

Crystal listened quietly, and rubbed Anya's back reassuringly with a webbed hand. She deliberately decided not to stare at the fins on her mother's forearms. "And I understand that," she said sympathetically. "You seem to be a strong girl; but something tells me that you weren't always."

Anya sighed. "Yeah. When I was pretty little, my father died. We had to take care of his business or starve otherwise. I can remember handling some of the produce and coming home with bleeding hands and fingers. I would try to hold in the tears, but when my mother would embrace me, I just couldn't and I'd break down crying." She made a face. "And I absolutely hated the medication she used on my hands. It always made the pain so much worse."

Shudders ran down her spine. "One time, I actually broke my arm when I was carrying it. I couldn't believe how painful it was, and I just couldn't stop screaming. My mother took me to the doc-healer, and he didn't handle my arm carefully. When he pushed it back into place, I wasn't given anything to dull the pain, and it hurt like hell." She looked down. "Now, I'm petrified of breaking something. I don't want to go through what I did again."

Crystal brought her into a hug, sympathetically rubbing her back. "We all have something we're scared of, Anya. Don't be afraid people will judge you for it; it just makes you human. Or mer, in my case."

Anya cast a small grateful smile at her. "Thanks."

A glow from underneath the surface of the sea caught their attention. She stood and tried to get a better look, but then the source of the light burst through the water's surface and shone so brightly, Anya and Crystal had to cover their eyes to keep from being blinded.

When the glow subsided, Anya opened her eyes to see a large casket at her feet. It was metal, but covered in intricate silver and gold swirling designs. Kneeling down, she opened it slowly, unsure of what it might contain. Her eyes widened.

Laying there on a bed of wolf-skin, a sword in its scabbard was revealed to her. The scabbard itself was covered with the same swirling designs as the casket, but with a name written at the top of it in Danish. Anya peered at it closely, and removed some of the grime covering the word.

Tusmørke_. _

Twilight_. _

Crystal was saying something urgent to her, but Anya paid her no mind. Instead, she picked the scabbard up in her hand, curious. It was light in her hand, and she took hold of the silver handle.

_Tusmørke_ slid out with little noise, and she marveled at its workmanship. She was no expert of sword-crafting, despite being an excellent sword wielder, but this one seemed to be of perfection. Whoever its maker had been had taken great care and time to craft it.

Crystal's voice in her ear, louder this time, brought her back to reality. "W-What?" she asked blankly.

"You should really sheathe that," Crystal repeated, clearly looking agitated.

"Why?"

"Because-"

_Tusmørke_ started to pulsate in Anya's hands. Taking that as her cue, she sheathed it and the vibrations stopped.

Crystal relaxed and let out a relieved breath of air. "Because if you hadn't, this place would be a wasteland."

Anya frowned. "I don't understand."

"_Tusmørke_ is a sword with a violent past. It's been in many different hands, but it has always rained down destruction. Even by unsheathing it,_ Tusmørke_ thirsts for blood and devastation. Any wielder with it by their side will win any fight.

"But it has a cost. Tusmørke has been known to destroy its wielder from the inside if it is held on for too long outside battle. The last king to wield it placed it in a casket and threw it into the sea."

"Wise man," Anya muttered. "Who created _Tusmørke_?"

"Two people," Crystal replied. "A merman and a human sorcerer. Their original intention was to create a devastating weapon that could be wielded by only one person, the Valgt *Chosen*, to defeat the evil fire spirit Rethos. Only that person could tame the sword, and once they passed on, Tusmørke would fade away, never to be seen again.

"But it was stolen from them by a greedy king before they could say who the Valgt would be. Kings have wielded it, but it has never truly succumbed to anyone." She shrugged. "At least, that's the story I've heard. I'm not sure if it's accurate to begin with."

Anya stroked the sword thoughtfully. "Then why did it come flying to me?"

Crystal smiled ruefully. "Tusmørke has always enjoyed a fight. Even at the bottom of the ocean, it could hear you speaking of your duel tomorrow. Clearly, it wants to join in."

Anya took one last long look at the sword. "Well, I hate to disappoint you, Tusmørke, but I think I'd rather not kill anyone."

And with that, she set the weapon back in the casket, and with some difficulty, shoved it back into the sea.

They watched it sink out of sight, and Crystal sighed with relief. "I am glad you didn't fall into Tusmørke's temptation. But you are still without a weapon."

Anya smiled at her. "I'll figure something out."

With a smile, Crystal lowered herself into the water. "Can we talk tomorrow? I want to know how your duel went."

"Umm…sure. But for fear of sounding stupid," Anya began, "are you allowed? I mean, I've always heard that mer are forbidden to speak to a human by your king."

A laugh bubbled out from between the woman's lips. "Well, what you've heard is wrong. We don't have a king to begin with; we're all just free to do what we want. And whether or not we speak to humans is up to us."

Anya considered this. "I guess that makes sense. Well, talk to you tomorrow, then."

"Good bye, Anya," Crystal said. "I wish you luck!"

And then she disappeared into the waves.

With a sigh, Anya made her way back to the beach and sat down. _'What to do about this weapon thing? I still don't have one, and the one sword that's available is evil.'_

"Hey."

The blank tone came from behind her and Anya turned to see Lukas standing there, a sword and scabbard in hand.

"I'm Norway," he said bluntly. "I thought you might need this. This is my sword, Håbe. When you're done with it, I expect you to return it."

Anya stood and took it. The fact that she towered over him didn't escape her, but she said nothing. It felt light, just as Tusmørke had, but it didn't feel quite the same. For some reason,Tusmørke had felt more like it belonged in her hand, but Håbe would work. She told herself that if she held Tusmørke, she'd most likely kill everyone present and end up killing herself as well. It wasn't wise to risk her life over a stupid duel.

She unsheathed it and spun it once to get the hang of it. Her memories of swordsmanship were slowly coming back to her, and she smiled slightly. "Thanks, Norway," she said gratefully. She paused. "Is there something you want from me in return?"

"Yes."

_'Knew there was a catch.'_

"Beat Denmark," he stated simply. "Not just for your sake, but for everyone else's sake. His ego is getting too large for his own good; a sound beating will deflate him."

A smile twitched at her lips. "I'll do my best."

"Good," Norway began to walk away, satisfied.

"Norway?'

He turned back, curious. "Yes."

"Do the other nations feel the same way?"

A smirk upturned his lips. "They won't admit it, but yes, they do."

"Guess if I beat him tomorrow, they'll owe me."

"Indeed." And with that, Norway walked away from Anya, leaving her to practice in private.

***Chosen***

Anya spent the night practicing fervently, and when the sun came up, she grabbed a few hours of rest before the duel. She ate nothing, because she didn't have anything, but drank a little fresh water from a small trickling waterfall on the cliff face.

Precisely at noon, Denmark appeared with the four other nations behind him. She warily eyed his enormous battle axe he had slung over his shoulder, but kept her face neutral. _'How the hell does he hold that thing? Is he really that strong?' _

"Nice toy ya got there," he smirked.

She said nothing, and unsheathed her sword. "At least I know how to use it. It wouldn't be any fun if you fought me when I had no idea what I was doing, now would it?"

"I suppose not." With a laugh, Denmark removed his cloak and shirt, smirking. Anya kept herself from staring at his chiseled torso. "Y'know, it's the rules for the opponents to remove their shirts in a duel."

She glanced at Norway for clarification. Subtly, he nodded his head, looking pink. "Fine."

She set down Håbe for a moment and slowly removed her own shirt. Internally, she cursed her ample assets. It would only make this extremely awkward with four males watching.

Color bloomed on the other four nations' faces, and Norway covered Iceland's eyes. _'Thank you, Norway_.'

Denmark, however, looked bewildered, and his mouth gaped. "H-How are you so muscled?"

She shrugged as she picked up her borrowed sword. "I prefer being able to lift things without a struggle."

Back home, Anya was known for her well-toned body, and could toss shipments of potatoes around like they were feathers. It was one of the main reasons she wasn't robbed from; rumors had started that if she caught the thief, they would mysteriously lose a finger or break an arm.

He shook his head, and readied his axe. His gaze dropped to her bikini top. "Interesting choice of clothing. It seems so easy to cut through, don't you think?"

He closed the gap between them and swung his axe, aiming for the opposite side of her sword, thinking that with her trying to keep modest, her guard would be riddled with holes.

Almost lazily, Anya transferred her sword to her left hand and blocked the swing. Her expression didn't change, while Denmark's eyes widened in surprise.

"B-But you're right-handed! How did you-?"

"There's a word for a talent like this," she said smugly.

With speed like lightning, her sword was in her right hand again, and she swung downward, slicing across Denmark's chest. Blood spurted out, and Anya took an internal delight in the sight. He yelped in pain, and Anya planted her foot in his stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, and he gasped for air. Using that to her advantage, Anya disarmed him of his axe. It clattered away from him, and she put the tip of her sword under his chin.

"The word is ambidextrous," she continued, tilting his head upward. "The ability to use both hands equally. And I do believe it had helped me win."

Denmark smiled despite the fact he had lost. "You've got skill with a blade, I'll admit that. But how much will that help you if I fight you without holding back?"

Anya raised a silver eyebrow. "Holding back?" She shook her head, let out a 'tsk' sound. "I should have told you at the beginning that I don't like it when people hold back. I like to test myself."

"Get ready for the test of your life, then," he said confidently.

Picking up his axe, he went after her for the second time, and this time, managed to slightly nick her on her arm.

She looked down at it in amusement. "Well. About time."

As Denmark began to attack her again, Anya simply blocked and parried each blow, waiting patiently for the moment to strike. He was growing frustrated, she could tell. His attacks were becoming wilder and fiercer, but not quite as controlled. Her cuts were becoming numerous, but nothing she couldn't handle. Her main goal was to keep her bored façade, which seemed to infuriate him the most.

Finally, Anya found a hole in his defense and took the opportunity. With a quick roundhouse kick, she struck his hip and while he was off-balance, she swept him off his feet with a tackle to his chest.

Once again, Denmark found himself at Anya's mercy and sword point. A small smirk was on her face, and her silver hair was caked with the blood from her shoulder. She didn't seem to notice, and if she did, she didn't care. Her gorgeous eyes were half-lidded with the pleasure of having him at her mercy, and he felt his heart begin to beat wildly out of control at the sight. He didn't understand why for a moment, then he realized something.

_'All the other women that I've encountered are nothing like Anya. They would agree with me all the time, and wouldn't give me a challenge. But Anya…she'd argue with me and call me stupid, just as though she was another man like me. Perhaps after this…I'll ask to court her.'_

"What kind of warrior are you?" he asked, his voice slightly laden with awe.

Anya shrugged. "I'm no warrior. I'm just a merchant's daughter."

_'Yeah, right. You are much more than that.'_ To keep up appearances, he growled and stood, but tossed his axe to the side. "Last round is going to be hand-to-hand combat. This decides who's winner."

"Fine by me," she said, sliding Håbe into its scabbard. "I thought you had had your fill of my kicking your ass, but if you want more, than that's okay. I will be happy to dish out more of it." Despite her care-free attitude about the situation, she was becoming anxious. She had never been as good with hand-to-hand combat as she had been with weapons. Right now, her fate was hanging in the balance, and she wasn't sure it was tipping in her favor.

Chuckling, Denmark took up an offensive stance; knees slightly bent, fists balled up, and raised to protect his face. But she noticed that he was heavily favoring his left leg, and Anya decided to take advantage of that.

Like lightning, she flew at him and aimed a punch at his face. As expected, his hands came up to block it, but at the last second, she changed tactic and immediately wrapped her leg around his left one. With a strong twist, the leg emitted a loud _CRACK!_ through the air.

Anya yelped in pain, and realized that her plan had backfired on her. Denmark had seen through her trick, and twisted his leg around hers, breaking it. Now her slightly-stronger right leg was utterly useless to her.

Internally, Denmark was panicking. He hadn't meant to actually break her leg, but he had underestimated his own strength and now she was in pain and was most likely going to lose.

Even though her leg was throbbing with agony, the most pain she let show was a little watering in her eyes. Anya still stood, staring down her opponent. The fact that she would eventually have to see a doctor again was at the fore front of her mind, however.

He grimaced on the outside, though he was singing with joy that she was still standing. "I gotta admit, you're pretty good for a girl. Even though I broke your leg, you still stand. Impressive."

He rushed her when she least expected it and wrapped his arms around her. Before he released her, he relished the feeling of her strong body in his arms, and then flung her into the ocean, at least 30 feet out.

Anya sunk into the ocean and felt the pain lesson, and then disappear altogether. The water swirled around it, and supported it in a flexible cast.

Denmark strode into the water to retrieve her with a heavy heart. _'Now she'll never let me court her.'_ However, as he approached her landing zone, Anya rocketed out of the water. With a kick to the chest, she sent him flying back to the beach.

He fell flat on his back and before he could get up, Anya was sitting on his chest. Her left hand pinned his arms above his head, and her right wrapped around his neck, squeezing lightly.

"Give. It. Up," she panted, eyes narrowing dangerously. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing. He could sense that even if he didn't give up, she wouldn't stop until she had forced him to yield. The possibility that she would let herself be torn to pieces to defeat him was very apparent, and he contemplated.

There was nothing but silence for a moment, and then Denmark sighed in defeat. "I yield."

Satisfied, Anya let him up and he stood. "I'm extremely impressed, though," he mused as Anya stood as well. "Your leg didn't seem to be giving you any trouble."

The words had not even left his mouth when Anya sank to her knees and fell over, clutching her leg. Tears squeezed out, though she did her best to hold them back. She bit her lip to prevent a scream of pain from coming. _'I will not scream, I will not scream.'_

"Anya!" Denmark knelt beside her and he noticed her lip bleeding from her teeth. _'She's trying not to scream,'_ he thought in bewilderment. _'How much pain is she in?'_

"Anya, it'll be okay. You can go ahead and scream if it hurts that much."

She opened one eye, giving him a brief warning before she opened her mouth.

The howl she let out chilled him to the bone, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking and screeching that followed. It was animalistic. Goosebumps rose on his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his blood ran cold. The sound reverberated around in the sheltered bay, and created an eerie echo.

When she finished, Anya whimpered pathetically and tears fell freely down her face. "H-Hurts so bad," she sobbed.

Denmark rubbed her back and slid his arms under her carefully, picking her up and carrying her onto land.

Finland and Iceland looked close to tears, Norway was stunned, and even Sweden's mouth formed a perfect O. The woman that had seemed so strong was now at the lowest of the low in her pain. Seeing her like that was pitiful. However, Denmark snapped them all back to reality with a sharp command.

"Get the healer! Quickly!"

Finland and Iceland were off like arrows, and Sweden knelt next to her. "It's re'l b'd," he said, glancing at her leg. "'M g'nna h've t' sn'p it b'ck int' pl'ce." He glanced at Anya. "'S g'ing t' h'rt."

She nodded, but her breathing increased rapidly. Her worst fear was coming into play here, and she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Denmark, however, noticed, and slid his hand into hers comfortingly. Anya's grip on it became like iron, but he did not mind. If she needed him, then he would be there.

On a count of three, Sweden snapped the bone into its correct position. The howl came back, and both Sweden and Denmark winced.

"She's certainly got a set of lungs."

"N' k'dd'ng."

Norway sat by her head and awkwardly stroked her hair, trying to reassure her. "It'll be okay, Anya. Finland and Iceland are almost here."

Sure enough, the two smaller countries appeared with the healer. The man felt her leg, and then pressed down at the kneecap, earning a whimper from Anya. He did the same at mid-thigh, and once more, she screamed in pain.

"She's broken her leg cleanly in two places," the healer said. "The rest of her bones are perfectly fine."

Anya just barely heard the healer say something more. The pain became too overwhelming, and the world became black.

**Uh-oh. Her worst fear has reared its ugly head, and with some help from Denmark. Now what's he gonna do? This is certainly going to put a dent in his plans to court her. **

**Review! Don't leave et12356 all alone! *puppy eyes***


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, guys, since I felt bad for the late update, I thought I'd throw in another chapter for the day. And I forgot to mention; I've already written this whole thing out. What I'm doing right now is just loading it onto my account and going through and fixing mistakes. So, depending on my schedule, I'm not sure how many chapters in a day I can upload. I'm going on a trip this weekend, so I'll try to get as many chapters in as I can since I'll have no WiFi where I'm going. -_- And of course, I have my school work, so if I don't upload a single chapter in a day, you can pretty much blame it on my homework. **

**Enough of my rambling! Go on, shoo! Read the chapter! **

She awoke to a cool rag against her forehead, and then groggily opened her eyes. Denmark was wiping her forehead gently, and his gentle blue eyes met hers. "Hey, she awakes," he joked softly.

"Just barely," Anya groaned. As she sat up, a heavy weight caught her attention. Throwing off the covers, her eyes widened in shock.

A splint made of seaweed and sticks supported the thigh and knee of her right leg. And to further add to her appearance, bandages covered both her arms all the way down to her wrists.

She was confused for a moment, and then she remembered what had happened. "So, it wasn't just a bad dream?" Had she really been injured that badly on her arms?

"Sadly, no," he replied. Anya caught a sullen tone and she realized why with glee.

"That's right," she purred. "I beat you. In every round." To enunciate each word, she poked his chest playfully.

He winced at each poke. "Hey, ease up, would ya? I'm still sore from your kick."

A Cheshire cat-like grin formed. "Oh, a _girl _made you sore, huh? Funny to hear that coming from _you_, Denmark."

Grumbling, he shoved her shoulder gently. "Be quiet, you." There was no real malice in his voice, though.

She quieted down, but still retained her grin. "Well, then. It also seems that I've won our little bet, too."

He cursed under his breath, and Anya grinned wider, but said nothing. She glanced around the room, taking in the bare wooden walls and the open trunk with various weapons overflowing. The floor was wood as well; the only sources of light were the candles and the single window, the sunlight making a square on the floor.

"Is this your room?" she found herself asking.

He nodded. "Yeah. You might recognize it from a couple days ago. You've been out for the last day and a half."

Slowly, Anya nodded, and then it dawned on her. "Oh, no!"

Throwing off her covers, she struggled to get up. "I have to get to the beach! I was supposed to meet someone!"

Bewilderment, jealousy, and hurt flickered across Denmark's eyes. _'So she's already found somebody? Maybe she found someone the night before last.' _He hid his disappointment well, though. Helping her get up, he asked, "Who do you have to meet?" _'If it's Nikolai, I swear I'll take his head off with my own two hands.'_

"A friend!" Anya hobbled out the door, surprisingly fast with the heavy splint on her leg.

"Wait, but who-?"

The door slammed behind her as she left, waking up the rest of the Nordics. Norway lumbered out of his room, rubbing an eye sleepily. "What was that about?"

"It was Anya. She said that she had to meet someone at the beach last night," Denmark explained. "She seemed pretty anxious." _'I wonder why.'_

Anya limped to the cliff where the beach was, remembering the way that Fenris had showed her, but stopped at the edge. The way down was absurdly steep, and in her condition, there was no way she was getting down there. Frustrated, she let out a string of curse words in English that would make a pirate blush. "_Now_ how do I get down there?"

As if in answer to her predicament, a thick stream of water burst out from the ocean and sailed up to where she was. The head of the stream was formed into a dragon's head with large teeth and a long snout, making Anya shriek and take a step back. "What the-?"

'Get on!'

Crystal's voice bubbled out from the dragon's mouth, and Anya shrieked again in surprise. 'Come on, dummy, he's not going to hurt you. He's your only way down.'

Cautiously, Anya got on and sat just behind the head. The water stayed in place under her weigh. The water dragon flew back to the bay and touched down at the rocks where Crystal was waiting. She looked anxiously at Anya. "Well? Did you win?"

Anya couldn't help it; she broke into a wide grin. "He yielded!"

The dragon turned back into water, and Crystal squealed with happiness, holding Anya's hands tightly. "That's so great! Congratulations, Anya!"

Her gaze fell on the broken leg and the bandages. "But I see you didn't escape unscathed." She held up her hand, and stream of water followed. "Would you like for me to fix that?"

Anya shook her head no. "I don't want to freak out my housemates with a suddenly-healed body. After all, they witnessed me get injured in the first place."

Crystal considered this. "That makes sense." The water dropped back into the sea, and she helped Anya sit down carefully. "So tell me what happened."

Anya's original giddiness returned, and she recalled the tale without leaving out a single detail. Crystal looked enthralled, and by the end of the story, she applauded heartily. "Good for you! It's about time the land has a woman warrior!"

Anya gave a mock bow from the waist. "Thank you, thank you."

Her hair fell into her face, and the sun glittered on it, reminding her that she had several questions to ask her mother. She was curious about the mer lifestyle, and there were a few particular questions she had to ask.

"Um, Crystal?"

"Yes?"

Anya fiddled with her hair, suddenly shy. "Could you answer my questions about mer? I'm fairly curious."

Crystal flapped her fins, splashing water around. "Sure! What do you want to know?"

"How long do mer live?"

Her mother considered this. "Hmm. Most mer are almost immortal, but not completely. We live almost for 5,000 years, but when it's time for us to die, we get sick, and then just…move on. Other than that, we're pretty healthy. Mer don't get sick unless it's time for good-bye."

So that explained why her mother had seemed so accepting of her death. She hadn't fought it; she had just laid there and passed away. "How old are you?"

"I'm 3,676 years old."

_'Okay, so it's 1332, and Mom died in 2012, and she's 3,676 years old now…2012 minus 1332 is 680. Add that to 3,676 and that's…4,356 years old,'_ Anya thought._ 'So she did live a long life.' _"Okay, so that trick you just did with the water; can all mer do that?"

"No," Crystal replied. "Mer are born with one of two powers; control of water, which I have, or the ability to speak to sharks and other sea animals."

Inwardly, Anya's heart rate quickened, but she kept her award-winning poker face. "And do all mer have the silver hair and odd eyes?"

"The mer of the Nordic region do," Crystal corrected. "Mer appearances depend on the region. I've heard of a mer that have dark skin, golden eyes, and dark hair with gold tails that live way down south."

African mermaids. She'd never considered that. "Now what about turning into a human? I've heard rumors about that."

"Yes, we can," Crystal began, "but we don't really do that too often. The only time we really go onto land is to either mate or give birth." Her blatant way of putting it made Anya blush slightly. Talking about that sort of thing often made her embarressed beyond belief.

"What about the babies? Do they have tails or legs?"

"They have legs, but they turn 18, they are turned into mer. Up until that point, the parents stay on land to help guide them into their heritage."

Anya tilted her head, confused. "But how? I don't understand. Is there a spell or something to change them?"

Crystal let out a laugh. "No, not exactly." Her eyes became alert. "Why do you ask?"

Biting her lips, Anya spoke slowly. "Well, my mother had the same hair and eyes I do, and we lived in a place near the sea. I think she may have been a mermaid. But she's dead now, and all my memories of my father are fuzzy."

"So you think you might be a merchild," Crystal finished. Her tone was thoughtful. "I see. Well, have you had an experience with either of the two powers I mentioned?"

Anya hesitated slightly, and then said, "I can speak to sharks, and I've even spoken to a seal or two."

Crystal's eyes widened. "You _are_ a merchild. But both of your parents are dead?"

She nodded forlornly. "Yes."

"I see," the mermaid said thoughtfully. "How old are you?"

"18, almost 19."

A wide grin spread over her face. "Then I can change you!"

Anya's mouth fell open. "Y-You could?"

"Yep! Just tell me when you want to be changed, and I'll get it done!"

She sat back on the rock, thoughts whirling. Anya stayed like that for a moment, and then asked, "Does it have to be done immediately?"

Crystal blinked in surprise. "No, but why?'

A rueful smile spread formed on Anya's face. "I think I want to wait a little bit. I want a little time to absorb all this information."

Understanding dawned on the woman's face. "That does make sense. I know this is a lot of information to take in, so take as long as you want."

Anya smiled. "Thanks, Crystal, for everything." She looked up to the cliff face. "I think I better get back. Denmark and the others might be worried."

Crystal nodded, and with a flick of her wrist, the water dragon came back and Anya clambered on clumsily. "See ya later, Anya!"

And with that, the dragon zoomed off.

***Chosen***

As Anya hobbled back to the village, a sudden thought plagued her. _Tusmørke_; her mother had said that she didn't know the full story, so what was the complete tale? And what was a Valgt?

While she was lost in her thoughts, Denmark came running up to her, a relieved look on his face. "There you are! You scared me there for a second. I thought you'd been eaten by a serpent or something."

Anya chuckled, then wondered aloud, "I've been meaning to ask; what happened to my board? Y'know, the thing I was lying on when you found me?"

He looked puzzled for a moment, the confusion cleared from his face. "Oh, that! Don't worry, it's in my shed. I wouldn't let anyone else touch it since I wasn't certain about what it did."

Anya chuckled again. "Where I come from, it's used to surf on the top of the waves. It's a very fun pastime; I'll show you how it's done when my leg heals."

"Sounds great!" Denmark wrapped an arm around her and grinned widely. His demeanor towards her had taken a total one eighty, and it confused her slightly. But if he was willing to let their past problems remain in the past, she was fine with that. It'd probably be better that way if they were going to be living together until she either went home or was killed in this strange time. "Y'know, I think I'd like to visit this home of yours. It's across the ocean, you say?"

Uh-oh. She'd been worried about this. Time to execute her aversion plan. She did not need to mess up the course of history simply by telling him how to get to the United States of America, which didn't even _exist _yet. "Mm-hm. Actually, my homeland is so large, it touches two oceans. I live on the farthest part of it, on the western sea."

"Really?" Denmark's interest looked piqued; not good. "About how long of a journey to your home is this?"

_'Aha! An opening!'_ Anya pretended to be deep in thought. "Well…I'd say with good winds, it'd take you about a good month to cross this ocean…what is this one called?"

"The Atlantic."

"Thank you. It'd take you a month to cross the ocean, then to cross the land would be about a year or so, depending on what time of year you get there. And then you have to worry about the sicknesses in every region that I'm not even familiar with.

"So, by my estimation, you'd be back here in oh, two or three or more years, 15 years at the most. That is, if the wild animals, hostile savages, or incurable sicknesses don't get you first." _'If that doesn't deter him, I don't know what will.'_ She figured if she fed him exaggerated information on the dangers of the un-colonized America, then she'd prevent him from going in and seeking it out.

Her plan worked. Denmark's face had turned pale, and then he started looking a little green at the gills. "How did you _survive_?"

Anya shrugged, even though internally, she was dancing around and singing at the top of her lungs. "My people have been there for thousands of years already. We're familiar with every danger already, and we don't dare leave our region."

He laughed weakly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be visiting your home anytime soon."

_'Score one for Anya!'_ Luckily, he was too dense to ask her about the natural resources or how she managed to get here to the Atlantic Ocean in the first place. Suddenly, he shifted his weight onto one of her more tender spots, and she let out a hiss of pain.

He removed his arm from her so quickly you would've thought he had been burned. "Are you okay? I didn't open one of your wounds, did I?"

His fretting reminded her of an overprotective mother, and she smiled slightly. "No, I'm fine. But why are you so attentive to me now? Yesterday, you seemed bent on beating me to a pulp. Heck, you even broke my leg."

Denmark's face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Uh…well…"

"Denmark!" Iceland came running towards them. "Your boss needs you. He says they're planning another trade voyage."

A brief look of relief flickered over Denmark's face, but then it was gone, replaced with a cocky grin. He nodded to Iceland. "Thanks, Icey!" he said, winking as he ran off.

Once he was gone, Iceland shifted from foot to foot nervously. "My name is Iceland. Thank you, Miss Anya, for defeating Denmark," he said shyly. Then he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "I've been told that I can go on trade voyages now, and I would like to repay the kindness you've done me." His voice had taken on a stronger tone, despite the fact he still had the body of a 12-year-old. "Is there anything you would like from the voyage?"

Anya was touched. No one had ever asked her what she wanted for over six months; the concept had long become foreign to her. "Well…if you could find me a comb for my hair, I'd be extremely grateful." She pulled a strand away from her head and showed it to him. "I'm a little obsessive over how my hair looks, and I don't have something to comb it out."

Iceland had lost his tough façade, and he grinned from ear to ear. "Sure! Does it matter what it looks like?"

She shook her head. "Just so long that it doesn't break. I've broken several combs in the past because they've been badly made."

"Got it!" Iceland said enthusiastically, and then he composed himself. "I mean-"

Anya knelt down to his level. "Don't be afraid to act like a kid while you still can. I know you're probably much older than you look, but don't let go of your childhood so easily. Take it from me." Her eyes clouded over with sadness. "I had to let go of _my_ childhood when I was five."

And with that, she stood and walked slowly to Denmark's house.

***Chosen***

Anya walked back into the large house, intent on finding a room for herself, but she was stopped by Sweden. "Ya feelin' ok'y?"

She smiled slightly. "Yeah. The pain's gone for the most part, and I can walk, so everything's okay."

"Th't's good." There was a slight pause, then he asked, "D' ya w'nt 'nyth'ng?"

She frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sweden didn't speak for a moment, and then explained. "I'm g'ng on th' v'yage. D' ya w'nt m' t' br'ng ya 'nyth'ng?"

She paused for a moment. _'They all must want to repay me for the duel. I suppose I'll humor them'_. "I suppose I could use a sword of my own. I don't want to have to keep borrowing everyone else's."

He nodded in understanding. "Anyth'ng else?"

"No, but thanks," she said. Anya offered him a small smile and walked up to the second story.

She looked in the rooms for an empty one, and while she did that, she accidently peeked into Denmark's. Her gaze fell upon the weapon chest. Curiosity getting the best of her, she crossed the room and knelt down in front of it. Being especially careful, she lifted up each item and studied it closely.

_'Denmark's been to so many places,' _she mused. _'I've never seen so many different types of weapons before.'_

Her attention was grabbed by a glint of silver at the very bottom. Rummaging around, she finally grabbed hold of it and pulled it out. Her breath caught at the sight of it.

The handle was made of mother-of-pearl, and was intricately carved with wavy designs, the indents filled with silver. The blade itself was curved slightly, and glimmered silver even in the dark room.

"Where did you find this?" she murmured aloud.

"I found it on the rocks."

Her instincts instantly took over. Anya whirled around, gripped the dagger by the blade, and threw it. It sank into the wood with a dull _THUNK_ on the wall where Denmark's head was. Luckily, he had ducked just in time, and had avoided a dagger to the face.

Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she apologized quickly. "You just startled me!"

Denmark chuckled weakly and yanked the dagger out of the wall. "Now I have to add that to my list of things not to do," he stated. "'Do not startle Anya when she has a dagger in her hand.' Yeah, that sounds about right."

She fidgeted slightly as he came in and sat next to her. She was well aware of the fact that she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar…in a sense. Mentally, she braced herself for a lecture, but he completely ignored the fact that she had been snooping, and instead, continued his explanation.

"I actually didn't have to sail at all to find this dagger. All I had to do was walk out onto the rocks on the beach. It was just lying there, like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Since there was no one there to claim it, I took it."

During the explanation, Anya heard, or rather felt, the waves crashing against the rocks in a never-ending cycle. She didn't have to be a genius to know that this particular weapon was made by mer hands.

"You can keep it if you want." He held it out to her, handle first.

Her head snapped up. "I couldn't! You found it, you should keep it!" She tried to push it away, but he shook his head.

"You keep it. You obviously know how to use it better than I do, and you won the bet, remember? Whatever you want that's mine is yours."

Finally, Anya accepted it, smiling slightly. "Thanks, Denmark."

His heart leapt in his chest, and he grinned like an idiot. "No problem. That reminds me, I came here to ask you if you wanted me to bring you anything back from the trade voyage."

She chuckled softly. "Y'know, Sweden and Iceland have already asked me that today, and I had trouble answering each time. I guess I've been so busy these past few months, I've completely forgotten what it's like to want something."

"Busy? With what?"

"Running my business. I'm a merchant, and I have to keep on top of everything back home." She winced as a muscle in her back spasmed and she rubbed it away quickly. "I swear I wake up every morning feeling like an old woman."

Denmark felt his heart wrench. She may have thought that the way she stiffened from a spasm went undetected by him, but he noticed. It was impossible not to.

"I guess it can be up to you," Anya decided. "Just please make sure it's not pink, frilly, or too flashy."

He nodded immediately. "I can do that," he decided. He flashed her a smile. "Ya know, you fight really well. You impressed back in the duel. I've known several men that aren't as talented as you are."

She blushed at his praise, smiling slightly. "Thanks...I guess."

"Any time." And with that, he winked, stood, and walked out of his room, leaving Anya alone to pick her room. A small smile wound its way onto her face, and she felt lighter than she had in years.

***Chosen***

Around dinner time, Anya hobbled down to the kitchen, where Finland was already cooking what looked like salmon and a stew to go along with it.

He glanced up at her and broke out in a wide smile, his violet eyes twinkling. "Hello there! My name's Finland. It's a pleasure to finally introduce myself to you, Miss Anya."

"The pleasure's all mine," she replied. "Do you need any help?"

"Well, yes, actually," he said after a moment of debate. "Could you keep me company while I cook?"

"Sure." Anya grabbed a seat on a counter that he currently wasn't using and made herself comfortable.

Finland, she noticed, seemed to want to talk, but when he did, there was a very thick Finnish accent accompanying the Danish, and he stumbled over a few words that he couldn't seem to identify.

_'Danish is his second language,'_ she thought. '_Maybe I should make him a little more at ease with speaking with me.' _

"So, Finland, I'm assuming you don't feel very comfortable speaking Danish?"

He hung his blonde head slightly. "Kind of. I never really truly learned it, so I still stumble over it."

She smiled behind his back, and then began to speak Finnish. "Then how about I make you feel a little more at ease?"

His head snapped up again and he whirled around to look at her. "You speak Finnish?" he replied in his native tongue.

Anya laughed quietly. "I do. Danish isn't the only language I know. When I was little, I learned Finnish as well as Swedish, Norwegian, and Icelandic. Although," she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, "I speak it a little differently than you do."

If Finland cared that she spoke his language strangely, he didn't show it. Instead, he bounced from foot to foot, much like a young excited child. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear my native language! It's been so long since I've been able to speak it with someone else!" Happily, he turned back to his cooking.

She laughed again. "Well, now that you're a little bit more comfortable with speaking, I'd like to get to know you. For instance, is there someone you like?"

He froze slightly, and then the back of his neck turned pink. "W-Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, so there _is_ someone," she teased. Normally, she would've stayed away from stuff like this, but here, where no one knew her or of her, she could let her true kind, caring, and teasing personality, locked away for so long, be released. "What's her name?" She knew it was Sweden, who was by no means a girl, but she wanted to hear Finland confess it himself.

"_His_ name," Finland corrected under his breath. He hoped desperately that Anya hadn't heard him, but her smile stayed etched in place.

"Who's the lucky guy, then?"

His face went scarlet. "Y-You're okay with that? I mean, I don't know a lot of other people like me…"

She waved it off. "Where I'm from, it's accepted by most people, and I'm fine with it myself."

"Please don't tell," he begged.

Anya made a motion of zipping her lips, locking it, and tossing away the key, which eased his nerves somewhat. "Is that a type of promise from your home?"

"Yep. Now tell me, I'm dying to know!"

Biting his lip, Finland muttered rather quickly, "IlikeSweden."

"What was that?" Anya asked, teasing.

"IlikeSweden," he said again, slightly louder, but still not quite audible.

"One more time."

"It's Sweden, dammit!" he yelled. As soon as the words left his lips, he looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard. No one had been around, and they had been speaking Finnish, so the chances of Sweden overhearing were slim.

Anya grinned victoriously. "I knew it! I knew you liked Sweden!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" Finland shushed, looking terrified. "I don't want him to know!"

She snickered. "Finland, we're speaking Finnish, which only you, I, and your people can speak. I doubt Sweden would be able to understand us if he walked in." He relaxed slightly, and she continued. "But why don't you want to tell him?"

"B-Because, he might not feel the same way," he replied, shifting from foot to foot. "He's so scary-looking…and I don't want to break my heart." A tear trickled down his eye, which he hastily wiped away.

In response, Anya got off the counter and hugged Finland tightly, even though she was a good two heads taller. "Hey, it's okay. Besides, I think he likes you, too."

"Really?!" Finland asked, looking hopeful.

"Really," Anya assured him. _'After all, he does ask you to marry him sometime in the future.'_

Back to his bubbly self, he spoke like a chatter box as he continued to make dinner. Neither one noticed, however, Sweden standing just behind the doorway, sighing mentally. _'Well, as long as she makes Finland happy, I'm okay with it. I want the best for my wife, even if he wouldn't be mine.' _

Denmark had also seen this exchange, and since he couldn't understand a word that was spoken, he didn't know that they had been discussing Finland's crush on Sweden. All that he saw was a tender exchange between two lovers.

_'I don't understand. Anya had looked interested; but was she just being nice?'_ He hung his head. _'I'm such a fool.'_ And with that, he crept out of the house and headed to the tavern to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

**OH, CRAP! When Denmark drinks, things are BOUND to get crazy! And Denmark, you fool! Can't you tell they were talking about how Finland likes Sweden? (Oh, wait, he can't. They were speaking Finnish. Now I get it. ^J^")**

**SUFINNNNNNNN~! BEHOLD THE ADORABLENESS! **

**Review! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, I'm very pleased that I've gotten TWO more reviews, but people, honestly, must you reduce me to groveling? **

**Note: I do not own the song that comes up in this chapter. I won't tell you what song it is, because what fun is that? ;3 **

**Also, this song actually does translate to Danish. Go give it a listen; it's absolutely beautiful. I nearly broke down in tears when I first heard it.**

While Anya had resumed chatting with Finland, Sweden walked in and looked directly at her. "Anya, c'n I t'lk w'th ya f'r a m'ment?"

She looked confused, but nodded. Following him, she sank down in a chair next to the fireplace, where Sweden sat next to her. He was silent for a while, then asked quietly, "D' ya l'ke F'nland?"

Anya frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"D' ya l'ke F'nland as a l'v'r?" She could hear the hurt in his voice and her eyes widened.

"Not like that! I mean, I like him as a friend, but," she smiled slightly, "he's not really my type." Then she frowned again in confusion. "What gave you that impression?"

"I s'w ya two h'gging in th' k'tchen wh'n h' w's m'king d'nner. D'nmark d'd, too."

"Denmark?"

"Y'p. Looked k'nda h'rt, l'ke h' h'd h's heart r'pped out."

Anya frowned. "Why?"

"H' l'kes ya."

Sweden's blunt answer hit her like a ton of bricks. "He likes _me_? But yesterday, he seemed like he wanted to gut me like a fish." _'Wow. That is a bad pun, especially after what I found out about my heritage.'_

He shook his head. "H' l'ked ya wh'n h' f'rst met ya; th'n wh'n ya foght 'm, h' l'ked ya even m're."

"Because I beat him?" Anya asked in disbelief.

"No one's 'ver beat h'm b'f're. Th't's why h's g't such a b'g cr'sh on ya. I th'nk h' sees ya as a p'tiential w'fe."

Color flooded her face, but she had a small smile on her face. "A potential wife, huh?"

"Where is he now?"

Sweden shrugged. "Th'nk h's at th' t'vern. 'S wh're h' goes wh'n h's h'rting."

Anya shook her head disdainfully, even though she had a bad feeling in her stomach. "Lemme guess; we have to go get 'im?"

"Y'p."

Sighing, she stood and walked carefully to the kitchen door. "Finland?" she called to him in his native tongue. "We're heading out to the tavern to get Denmark. Is there anything I should keep in mind when I'm coaxing him out of drinking?"

"Don't challenge him to a fight," he advised. "If he's drunk, he won't back down. Other than that, you'll be alright."

"Thanks, Finland!"

He turned and waved, a streak of flour on his cheek. Anya heard Sweden mutter "Cute," with a reverent tone behind her and she smirked.

_'These two will be a lot of fun to watch. I wonder how long it'll take for them to confess.'_

***Chosen***

For the second time that day, Anya made the trek through the forest, except this time, she was heading to the tavern Denmark frequented with Sweden directing her. Once there, she boldly walked in, well aware of men staring at her and whispering. She was the only woman there that she could see, but with Sweden's looming figure behind her, they quickly averted their eyes.

Letting her eyes adjust to the dark, Anya scanned the room, and quickly found the wild mane of blond hair she was looking for. Denmark was currently downing another tankard of beer at the bar, and wasn't paying attention to the things going on around him.

With a sigh, Anya walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. "Denmark."

At the sound of his name, he turned, and his face lit up. "Anya~!" he slurred. "It's soo good to see youuu~!"

She recoiled at the smell of alcohol on him. "Uh-huh. Let's get you out of here."

"But whyyy~?" he whined.

"Because I think you've had enough," she patiently explained.

"You're no funn~," he pouted.

"Th' v'yage is 'n two d'ys," Sweden reminded him. "Ya can't b' h'ng-over on it."

Denmark dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Soo what~?"

"Denmark," Anya said firmly. "Either you leave here on your own two feet, or I'll have Sweden _carry_ you out."

"Why not you~?" he asked, poking her shoulder.

She winced at the poke. "Because I slashed my arms open yesterday."

"Aww, come on, babe," Denmark begged. "Please~?"

"Apparently, you've forgotten that I've broken my leg as well," she said dryly.

His blue eyes widened. "Who did it?! I'll kill 'em!"

"You have forgotten," she mused. "You broke my leg, dummy."

Confused, he scratched his head, and then he smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Stupid me~."

"Exactly," Anya agreed. "Now let's get you home, hmm?" She even smiled a little to further melt him.

But he wasn't too easily coaxed. "Not unless you sing first. For the _whole_ tavern. The girl that normally sings is sick, so some of these guys are bored. If you sing, then I'll leave."

Anya's blood ran cold. If there was one thing she hated, it was being at the center of attention. She had horrible stage fright when it came to these sort of things. "What kind of deal is that?" she demanded.

Sweden leaned down and whispered, "It's th' only w'y, Anya. Oth'rw'se, we'll n'ver get h'm outta h're."

With a small growl, Anya turned back to a victoriously-smirking Denmark. "Where do I stand?"

With a whoop of glee, he grabbed her hand and led her to a raised wooden stage. "Hey, everyone! We finally got some live entertainment goin'!" he called out.

The men gave various levels of bored responses, but Anya preferred it that way. Her legs were shaking enough without their stares. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and began to sing, translating the song to Danish. She closed her eyes, preferring to not see her audience. It kept her fear level down somewhat.

_Whatever you do, I'll do it, too! Show me everything and tell me how. It all means something, and yet, nothing to me. _

_ I can see there's so much to learn; it's all so close, and yet so far. I see myself as people see me; I just know there's something bigger out there! _

_ I wanna know; can you show me? I wanna know 'bout these strangers like me. Tell me more; please show me? Something's familiar 'bout these strangers like me. _

As the first notes of the song drifted across the tavern, all conversation ceased and everyone began to stare open-mouthed. The sheer beauty of her voice was enough to stop the heart of anyone present. Anya ignored them, keeping her eyes closed, and continued.

_Every gesture, every move that he makes, makes me feel like never before. Why do I have this growing need to be beside him? _

_ Ooh, these emotions I never knew, of some other world far beyond this place. Beyond the trees, above the clouds, I see before me a new horizon! _

As she ran through the chorus again, Anya felt a wonderful warm sensation inside her, filling her whole being with joy. The feeling of exercising her vocal cords again was too thrilling for words. Soon her fear melted away, and she began to smile as she sang.

_Come with me now to see my world, where there's beauty beyond your dreams! Can you feel the things I feel right now, with you? _

_ Take my hand; there's a world I need to know…_

_ I wanna know! Can you show me? I wanna know 'bout these strangers like me. Tell me more; please show me! Something's familiar 'bout these strangers like me. _

_ I wanna know…_

Thunderous applause filled her ears as she finished, and a blush crept up on her face. "Thank you," she murmured, making her way back to Sweden and Denmark.

When she reached there, she bit back a laugh. Denmark had fallen asleep on Sweden's shoulder, snoring peacefully. Sweden, however, was wide awake, and…was that a tear in his eye?

"Th't w's b'tiful, Anya," he said reverently. "D'd ya wr'te it y'r'self?"

She smiled slightly at him. "No. Another musician wrote it, but he won't mind that I'm singing it here."

Her gaze fell to Denmark. "Lemme guess; he fell asleep during the song?"

"Mh-hm," Sweden nodded. "B't b'fore he d'd h' w's s'ying s'mething 'bout h's b'tiful g'rl h'ving a b'tiful v'ice."

Anya blushed. "Let's get him outta here. Once he wakes up, his head will probably be punishing him soundly."

***Chosen***

As they walked back to the house, dusk was beginning to fall. Denmark stirred slightly. "Wha-?" He looked up from Sweden's back and saw Anya hobbling behind the tall nation. His face broke out in a huge grin. "Anya~! I thought you said you could carry me~!"

She sighed. "Still drunk, huh? I can't right now, dummy."

"Aww, but can't you try~?"

"No."

"Please~?"

"Be quiet, you idiot."

He laughed drunkenly. "You're just like Norge; you call me names, but you still care about me~."

Anya leveled a cool gaze at him. "What makes you think that?"

"You went to come and get me~!" he replied cheerfully. Then his face saddened. "But you still like Finland over me."

The kicked-puppy look on his face tugged at her heart, but she stood her ground against him. "That's not true, Denmark. Though I do like Finland, he's more like a brother to me." After a moment of hesitation, she continued under her breath, "You're more my type."

She fervently hoped he hadn't heard her, but the delighted look on Denmark's face told her otherwise. "Really?!"

Mortification filled her, but Anya answered softly, "Yes."

With a whoop of glee, he rolled off Sweden's shoulder, landed on his feet, and ran over to her. Denmark lifted her up by her waist and twirled her around. "So you'll let me court you?!"

Anya gripped her shoulders tightly in fear. She had never cared for being lifted up, especially when she was twirled around to boot; something about not being on her own two feet unsettled her. "Put me down first!"

He complied, and looked at her eagerly. "Well~?"

She fought the urge to smile, but failed miserably. "Okay," she consented.

With the biggest smile on his face, he leaned towards her, but Anya swiftly covered his mouth with her hand. "_But_…I do have certain conditions."

Denmark looked like he wanted to argue, but he stayed silent. _'Smart man_.' "One: I will not kiss you when you're drunk. Two: I will not, under any circumstances, sleep with you unless I marry you. Three: You will treat me with respect, or I won't allow you to court me." She fired a steely gaze at him. "Are we clear?"

Denmark leaned back away from her and saluted her somewhat sloppily. "Yes, ma'am~!"

"Good. And seeing as how you spun me around without falling over, I'd say you can walk home. I don't want Sweden to have a permanent slant to his shoulders."

From behind Denmark, Anya caught Sweden mouthing, "Thank you."

"Yeah," Denmark agreed happily. "He carries me home _alllll _the time~!"

She chuckled lightly. "So you're an informative drunk, huh? This'll be entertaining." Casually, she flicked her gaze over to Sweden. "You can go ahead. We'll catch up."

He nodded and walked ahead, a small smirk on his features. Anya turned back to the drunkard, an evil glint in her eye that he totally missed. "So, Denmark, how about we get to know each other, hmm?"

***Chosen***

The smell of fried salmon assaulted Sweden's nose when he entered the house. Clearly, Finland was finished cooking, so he wandered into the kitchen to fill his stomach.

Finland's back was turned, so Sweden had a rare chance to be able to fully appreciate the smaller male's graceful movements. Had it been just any other moment, Finland would have been facing him, warily watching him for any signs of aggression. Seeing the object of his affections look at him like that shattered Sweden's heart into a thousand pieces.

And what struck him as odd was that he felt that way towards Finland, and only Finland. No other man or woman attracted him, but he didn't question it. If he only liked Finland, then he was content with that.

His moment of contemplation was interrupted when Finland turned around and saw him. His angelic face went white, and he promptly dropped the dish he was drying.

Sweden dove for it, and caught the dish just as it was about to hit the ground. He looked up at Finland. "Ya 'lright?"

The Finn stammered a yes, and hastily the dish from Sweden's hand. _'What do I say? Help me, God!' _"W-Would you like anything to eat? Iceland, Norway, and I weren't sure when you'd get back, so we've already eaten, but I've kept some of it warm for everyone." Mentally, he beat himself up. _'How stupid is that? Stupid, stupid, STUPID!'_

"S're." What Sweden wanted to add was, "I'd eat anything you make," but he was too cowardly to even hint at his feelings.

Quickly, Finland grabbed a plate from the cupboard and began to pile food onto it. "So, Sve, where's Anya and Denmark?" He prayed that his crush couldn't see his shaking hands.

"Th'y w're w'lking h'me 'nd Anya w's going t' interr'gate D'nmark. W'ldn't s'rpr'se m' if sh' bl'ckmails h'm l'ter."

Despite his nervousness, Finland let out a laugh. "That sounds like something Anya would do."

He turned to give the giant his food, but was stopped by the hulking wall of muscle that was the Kingdom of Sweden. Nervously, he looked up and saw his reflection in the taller man's glasses. Looking past them, he saw the endless pools of icy blue that were Sweden's eyes. _'So beautiful…'_

Wait…was Sweden…leaning towards him…?

Just as he was within touching Finland's face, he stopped, and then carefully took his plate of food. "Th'nks, F'nland."

"Tino," Finland blurted without thinking. "Call me…Tino."

"Th'n…ya c'n c'll m' B'rwald."

Sharing a human name between countries was an intimate thing. Both Sweden and Finland hoped that it would at least give the other a peek into their feelings. Blushing heavily, Sweden left the kitchen in a hurry, leaving behind an equally crimson-stained Finland.

Meanwhile, Anya had been sitting at the top of the stairs, pulling her hair out. She had heard every word spoken, and it was driving her insane. The_ perfect_ chance to tell the other how they felt, and what did they do? They _blew_ it.

_'I'm disappointed in BOTH of you!' _ she yelled at them mentally. _'Cowards! Chickens! Lily-livers!'_ She paused mid-mental-rant. _'I don't even know what that means, but it sounds good._'

Sighing, she stood carefully, wary of her leg, and walked down to the kitchen to give Finland a piece of her mind.

The Finnish nation was humming softly to himself as he prepared another plate for Anya. He had come close to Sweden and he managed to not actually embarrass himself. That in itself was a job well-done.

He turned to call for Anya; however, when he did, he stared up into her harsh eyes. He yelped and almost dropped the plate. Without looking, she grabbed it and set it on the counter, all without taking her gaze off Finland.

"What in the name of everything good and sane was _that_?" she hissed. "You had a wide-open shot to tell him; what happened?"

Finland started to shake slightly. _'She's just as scary as Sweden with that face!'_ "I-I don't know! I panicked!"

She whacked him upside the head. "Well, for crying out loud, _don't_ next time!"

With a huff, she took her plate and Denmark's and walked out of the kitchen. Finland rubbed his head where she had whacked. "Jeez, and I thought _Denmark_ had some scary strength."

***Chosen***

Anya managed to get Denmark to eat something, and then she allowed him to go to sleep. As he drifted off, she gently ran her fingers through his hair and let her herself to gently massage a circle on his head. _'He really does look cute,'_ she thought. _'I never thought I'd go for the blonde, blue-eyes type.' _

She smirked slightly. _'I also never thought that he got his crazy hair from stealing food from one of Norway's faeries. Guess they're vengeful creatures.'_ She mulled over all he had told her. Most of them were about his travels and his different encounters with warriors on his Viking raids. But of course, there was that rather hilarious story with the wench that turned out to be a cross-dresser…

She felt a presence at his door and looked up. Norway was standing there, arms crossed and poker face on. "Oh. Hi, Norway."

"Hello," he greeted. In his frosty tone, there was a small trace of warmth. His eyes, a more bluish-violet than purple, looked at her with the slightest hint of curiosity. "I understand you agreed to let my idiot brother court you?"

"That's right," Anya confirmed, giving him a wary look. Would he be the one relative that didn't like her?

Norway gave a small, almost non-existent smile. "Welcome to the family, then. I understand you might not marry Denmark, and believe me, no one will blame you if you don't, but we will still consider you family. And since we are family, you may call me Lukas."

Anya smiled in response. "Thank you, Lukas."

He nodded, and turned to walk down to his room, but then stopped. "Sweden told me about what happened in the pub. He said that you had a beautiful voice, almost like a mer's." He put a definite emphasis on the last word.

She literally went cold. Her organs felt like lead, and she swallowed nervously. "Umm…I can explain?"

He shook his head. "There is no need. I have always known you were a mer, even though you might not have." He paused. "You do realize that if you marry Denmark, you will still retain your humanity, and will die much sooner than he does?"

Anya hadn't realized that, and she drooped slightly. "No, I hadn't."

Then she was struck with a sudden idea. "Lukas, I think I might have a solution. Thank you!"

And with that, she got up and almost ran to the staircase, sliding down the banister. "I'll be at the beach if you need me!"

Norway stood there, baffled. "Happy to be of service?"

**Oo, oo, who knows what her solution is? Guess we'll find out next chapter! **

**Review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A small warning for you: There is a prayer scene in this chapter. If you're not okay with it, then just skip through it. Yes, I am a Christian, but I do NOT believe in shoving religion down your throats. Though my beliefs will affect my writing, it'll only be slightly, not a major contender. If I offend anyone...well, too bad. Get over it.**

**I don't think I need to whine today; everything's going okay (except for History; I'm fairly certain my teacher is trying to kill me with all these projects), so go ahead and start reading! **

Through her excitement as she hobbled as fast as she could to the beach, Anya noticed that the closer she got to the ocean, the less her leg seemed to hurt. But she dismissed it as a merchild thing, and continued to speed-walk towards the cliff.

As she looked down to the shore, she saw her mother sitting on a rock, illuminated by the full moon, waving excitedly at her. The water dragon came sailing up out of the water, and this time, Anya didn't hesitate to climb on. As she did, she vaguely remembered a time when she was a baby, sitting in the bath tub, playing with water dragons while her mother sat nearby a smile on her face. _'I should have known,'_ she thought to herself, _'that my family was different.'_

But that was in the past…well, her past, at least. She had to focus on what was happening now.

When the water dragon touched down, she clambered off and nearly fell into the water. Crystal laughed merrily. "What's got you so excited?"

Grinning like a mad woman, Anya knelt down in front of Crystal and said, "I know my decision now. I'll have you change me into a mermaid as soon as possible."

"Really?!" Crystal looked ecstatic. "That's so great! And I have great news; I did a little asking around, and I found out that the transformation process will heal any sort of ailment you have, including _broken bones_," she explained giddily. "And even better, all the stress that is normally caused by the process will be restricted to your leg, helping to reconstruct it!"

Anya's eyes widened. "You mean, you could turn me right now? That's so great!"

"So why the change of heart?" Crystal was eager to know.

"I agreed to be courted by Denmark, and since he most likely would outlive me if I didn't turn, I wanted to be able to give us the longest possible chance of a life together."

Horror flew onto Crystal's face. "Y-you agreed to be courted by a _country personification_?!"

"What's the matter?" Anya asked in alarm. "Is there something wrong?"

"_Yes!_" Crystal cried. "Mer and country personifications _can't_ court because we're _complete opposites_! It's bad enough when a human and a mer court, but when countries are involved…it's completely volatile! They're land, we're sea; it just. Doesn't. _Work! _If you court him, then you'll _both _die! I thought that it was alright that you were just living with them, but now that you're courting him…"

Hearing her mother yell like that against her courting made Anya's heart sink in her chest. "And…and if I_ don't_ turn into a mermaid?"

Crystal looked stricken. "Y-You'd give up near-immortality for a _country_?"

A small tear leaked out from Anya's eye. "Yeah. And if it doesn't work out, I suppose this could be my Plan B."

With a sigh, Crystal nodded slowly. "And I'll still remain in the area. It's interesting having a human as a best friend."

_'It's interesting having a mermaid for a mother._' "Thank you," Anya whispered. "But, since Norway already knows about my heritage, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you healed my leg. I could always explain, since he didn't seem too fazed by it."

Crystal nodded, and summoned a ball of water. It covered her hand, and she placed it on Anya's knee. The water spread from Crystal's hand and spiraled around Anya's leg. She could feel it seeping in into her bone and reconnecting every fiber and tissue to re-construct it. The experience left her with a feeling of electricity, and she shivered slightly.

Finally, Crystal removed her hand. "It should be healed now."

Carefully, Anya removed her splint and stood. It creaked slightly, but otherwise, it was nicely healed. She cast a small smile at Crystal. "Thank you."

Crystal grinned, waved, and then slid into the water. "I think I'll go get some sleep. You should probably do the same."

Anya shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm still pretty awake, so I'll just stay out here for a while."

"Alright. Good night, Anya."

"Good night."

As Crystal swam away, Anya returned to the sandy part of the beach and sat down, lost in thought. _'Will this actually work? I mean, I don't want to have an almost-eternal life with a broken heart, but I suppose a human lifetime of happiness is better.' _

"Anya, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

She jumped at the voice. "Nikolai, what are you doing here?"

The male that Denmark had accused of cheating grinned and sat down next to her. Casually, she put a hand on her hip, where her dagger was hidden just in case she needed to use it. She really hoped he would back off. A murder charge would not make her day easier.

"Well, I was just taking a walk and I saw you down here, so I thought I'd join you." He leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles. "It's nice to be able to talk with a girl when they don't have a guard dog breathing down my neck."

Anya twitched an eye in irritation, but kept her tone calm. "Denmark's not a guard dog. He's just making sure that no undesirables get near me, and I thank him for it."

"But don't you get tired of it?" Nikolai asked, leaning up to where she was. "Don't you get tired of being told who you can talk to and who can court you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Are you insinuating that you would like to court me?"

"Yes, I am." He flashed a gorgeous smile at her, which would have made any female swoon, but Anya stood fast. "So…would you do me the honor of allowing me to court you?"

She sighed. "You're a little late for that, Nikolai. I've already agreed to let Denmark court me."

His eyes widened in astonishment. "What? You would let him court you?"

"Of course." Though her tone was calm, her words were biting. "He seems to be much more trust-worthy than you do, Nikolai."

He chuckled nervously. "Come now, you don't believe what Denmark says, do you? I've never cheated on anyone."

Her eyes turned icy. "Then if I go up to the village and ask anyone that, will I receive the same testament? My answer remains the same, Nikolai: I will not court you."

Nikolai's face registered pure fury. "Then if I cannot have you as my own, then your innocence will be mine for the taking."

He moved to attack her, and Anya drew her knife. But he knocked it out of her hands and moved on top of her. She fought him as best she could, but he pinned her arms above her head, and kept her still. "Now, now," he purred. "There's no need for that."

She squirmed around, desperately trying to free herself. Her heart was beating rapidly out of fear. Nikolai's grip on her wrists was like iron, and she couldn't move at all. She opened her mouth to scream, but he silenced it with his mouth, sliding his tongue in to smother her cries. Anya recoiled, but she could do nothing.

A growl caught his attention, and he looked up into the snarling face of Fenris. His pack stood behind him, also growling. Even the pups looked menacing.

Nikolai barely had a chance to move when Fenris pounced and went for Nikolai's throat. The fighting pair rolled off Anya, and the other pack surrounded her, just in case something else might threaten her. The pups curled up at her side, whining comfortingly. Anya tuned out the sounds of screaming, flesh tearing, and blood squirting, and focused on the pups.

The pack parted and Fenris nosed Anya gently. She chanced a look at him, and flinched slightly at the sight of blood on his muzzle. "Make sure you make it look like an accident," she murmured. "I don't want anything to do with this."

Fenris nodded, and whined slightly. She patted his head, and he licked her face. She felt the blood spread on her face, and she made a face and walked over to the ocean, cleaning it off.

As she turned again, a few of the larger male wolves were already dragging what was left of the body up the pathway to the forest. The rest of the pack was following them, but a female wolf stayed behind, a blanket in her mouth. Anya recognized it as one of the blankets Finland had set out to dry on a clothes-line near the house. She chuckled lightly. "You guys are the best," she said, patting the she-wolf's head.

She yapped happily, and then bounded off after her pack. Anya found a comfortable patch of sand, wrapped the blanket around her, and curled up to sleep. But her mind was racing a mile a minute. She had almost been _raped,_ for crying out loud. A shudder ran down her spine, and she whimpered slightly. If Fenris had not shown up when he had, she would've been violated and scarred for life.

But now Nikolai was dead, killed by wolves. Would anyone miss him? And more importantly, would the murder be pinned on her? She shook her head. No, it wouldn't. If his body didn't decompose all the way by the time someone found it, they would most likely think that he had wandered into the woods and ran into ravenous wolves. After all, when a pack of wolves were hungry, they'd eat anything with meat on it, wouldn't it? She relaxed and gave herself to sleep.

This would be a secret she and Fenris would carry to their graves.

***Chosen***

The next morning, Anya woke up, yawned, and looked out to the ocean. The waves rolled in peacefully, and she smiled sleepily. Almost automatically, she lifted a hand and beckoned with it. A stream of water came towards her, but in her sleep-addled mind, she thought nothing was strange.

The stream dissolved, dropping a fish at her feet. She grabbed her knife and slit open the fish, gutting it easily. The morning was still and quiet, and she was reveling in it. But the disturbingly-obvious red stain on the sand was the only evidence of last night.

Wincing, she got and walked to the water's edge. Picking up a handful of water, she threw it over the sand and began to mix it all together. After a few minutes, she managed to make it look like nothing had happened. She sighed. _'I am so unbelievably glad that DNA testing and all that hasn't been invented yet.'_

Deciding that she had been out long enough, she ate her meal, walked to the cliff face, ignoring the path, and began to climb.

What she immediately found odd was that she went up the cliff face hand-over-hand. She was normally a strong climber, but she felt almost superhuman-like. _'I guess this is a side effect of being healed by a mermaid,'_ she figured. _'I'll ask Mom later.'_

When she reached the top, a pale hand was thrust into her face. Looking up, she stared into the blue skies of Denmark's eyes.

"Denmark…"

"Hey, babe," he replied, grinning.

Taking his hand, Anya was pulled up and set down on her feet. Denmark's eyes never left hers.

"Norge *Norway* told me that you recently found out you were a mer, and that you came down here."

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Anya asked, trying to avoid the subject.

"I'm alright, but I think you know that we can't court now."

She flinched, even though there was no accusing tone in his voice. "Yeah, but-"

"I get it that you'd want the ocean over me," he interrupted sadly. "You're a mer; it makes perfect-"

Anya couldn't take the sadness anymore. "Shut up and listen, you idiot! I _am_ a merchild, but I'm not a mer-_maid_!"

Denmark frowned in confusion. "You've lost me now."

"When the offspring of two mer are born, they have legs, not tails. They get _turned_ into a mer after their 18th birthday." She looked at her feet. "I only just found this all out recently. My parents never turned me, so I'm not a mermaid."

A blush formed on her cheeks, but she kept going. "My friend Crystal was offering to turn me, but when I told her that you were going to court me, she said that if I turned, you couldn't. Something about 'mer and personifications not working.'"

Astonishment was evident on Denmark's face. "You gave up your heritage…for _me_?"

She blushed even heavier, but nodded her head yes. "I…wanted to give us a shot."

He stood there, dumb-founded, and then broke into a huge infectious smile. Picking her up, he twirled her in the air as he had done the night before, laughing. "You're one in a million, babe!"

Setting her down, Denmark pulled her close, and ran a hand through her hair. "I've never met a girl like you, Anya. You're strong, beautiful…and you can kick ass pretty easily."

"Yours included," she added, smirking.

"Mine included," he agreed reluctantly. "Anyways, what I mean is…" A blush of his own formed on his face, "You're the only girl that I've ever courted because I really want to get to know you."

If at all possible, Anya's blush got redder at his confession. "I…I'm flattered, Denmark."

"Matthias," he said suddenly. "You can call me Matthias. There's no need for us to be so formal now."

He cupped the side of her face tenderly, and his eyes softened. "I'm under the impression that I have to ask permission before I kiss you?"

"Y-Yes," Anya stuttered, very aware of how close they were.

"So…may I?"

Anya barely let out a whispered "Yes" when he brought their lips together in a sweet kiss.

Every other coherent thought in her mind fizzled out as soon as his lips met hers. His arms snaked around her waist, and Anya wrapped her own arms around his neck tightly, rising on her toes to meet his height easier. The alcohol that had been on his breath the night before was gone, and she was free to enjoy this without the taint of the fermented drink.

When the need for air finally separated them, Denmark grinned. "I'm sorry, but I think that I won't be asking your permission very much."

Anya brushed her lips with her hand. "My first kiss," she murmured. "So nice…"

Gently, Denmark replaced her hand with his own. "And there are plenty more where that came from."

And to prove his point, he claimed her lips once more.

***Chosen***

They stayed by the coast for the rest of the afternoon, just talking about their lives and getting to know the other. Their meals were a mixture of various fish that they caught themselves, cooked by Anya, since she didn't necessarily trust Denmark around an open flame. He pouted, but it faded as soon as he tasted her cooking.

Anya laughed out loud when Denmark told her that he kept a book of fairytales on his person at all times. "What?" he demanded, scowling. "What's the matter with that?"

She giggled again before she answered. "Well, from what I know of you, you didn't strike me as a man to carry around a fairytale book. That's why I'm laughing." She patted his hand. "I wasn't making fun of you, I promise."

His scowl eased. "Yeah, it sounds pretty ridiculous, but I had a scribe write them down for me since they're a part of my culture." His gaze grew wistful. "I wish I could read them, though."

Anya's jaw dropped. "You don't know how to read?"

He shook his head. "I know the stories by heart, though. I've listened to them for most of my life."

Her mind was made up instantly. "I'm going to teach you how to read," she announced to him. "Do you have a piece of parchment and something to write with?"

Denmark's mouth gaped, but he rummaged around in his satchel, producing a crumpled piece of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of ink. At Anya's raised eyebrow, he explained. "Norway makes me carry this around so that I don't look like a total idiot."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the quill, while Denmark looked on in awe. "You know how to write?"

The temptation to brag was just too much. "In _six_ languages," she said smugly.

"_Six_?"

"Yeah," she said, smoothing out the parchment on a nearby rock. "I speak Danish, as you know, but I also speak Norwegian, Icelandic, Swedish, as well as Finnish."

"What's the sixth language?"

"Where I'm from, we have an official language: English. But my family also speaks Danish, which is how I'm able to talk with you. I learned the other languages for fun because I didn't have much to do before my merchant business."

"Really?!" Denmark exclaimed excitedly. "Say something in English!"

"Well…okay." Clearing her throat, she switched to English, and said, "Well, you got your wish. I bet you don't understand a word I'm saying right now."

He looked awestruck and delighted. "That's amazing!"

She chuckled, and switched back to Danish. "I suppose it is. Danish was my first language, but I learned English as well so that I could talk with everyone else back home."

Focusing on the parchment in front of her, she dipped the quill into the ink and began to explain. "This is the alphabet that I was taught. I'm not sure if it's the same as what your people have learned, but oh well." She faltered for a moment, trying to get the hang of writing with a quill, then began her task.

Carefully, she wrote down the alphabet, minus the c, q, w, x, and z. Then at the very end, she added Æ, Ø, and Å. "These tall letters are called the Majuscule forms, but they can also be called uppercase or capital letters." She held the quill out to him. "Are you right or left-handed?"

He took the quill in his right hand and tried to copy how he had seen Anya grip it. "Is this how you hold it?"

"Yep." She smiled encouragingly at him. "You're starting to catch on already."

"Of course! I'm a quick learner!"

Anya chuckled. "Well, then. Go ahead and try to copy down those letters."

He turned his attention to the writing and to Anya's amazement, copied them slowly but perfectly.

"That's incredible!" she praised. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were a quick learner." She studied the writing again. They were almost a mirror image of her own letters. "How'd you do that?"

"I watched how your hand moved when you were writing," he explained. "I just mimicked your movements."

She kissed his temple. "Alright, then. Let me show you the Minuscule letters."

Taking the quill in her hand, she moved to write down the letters, but let out a squeak of surprise when she felt Denmark plop her down in his lap. "H-Hey-!"

"Relax," he whispered in her ear. "I'll behave myself."

Deciding to ignore the playfully-sexy Dane behind her, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. When she finished, Anya moved out of his lap (despite some heavy protesting on Denmark's part) to let him write, which he did as easily as the first time.

"Are you sure you can't read or write?" she asked him suspiciously.

He chuckled. "Well…Norway tried to teach me, but I brushed him off before we could get on to the reading part of it. I remembered some of them, but you refreshed my memory."

In response, Anya shook her head. "So I'm the _second_ person who's tried to teach you?"

"Pretty much." Once again, he ran a hand through her silver hair. "But I think I'll pay more attention to you."

She fought the blush spreading her cheeks, but lost miserably. Denmark chuckled deeply. "You know you look almost irresistible like that, right?"

He brought her in for another kiss, and Anya sighed in defeat. There was just no stopping him, she figured, unless, of course, she wasn't in the mood for a kiss. But Denmark was a great kisser, so she didn't see that happening anytime soon.

***Chosen***

By the time they'd started back to the house, it was just starting to grow dark. Something cold hit Anya's nose, and she looked up. In the quickly-fading light, she could just barely make out the form of snowflakes fluttering down to earth.

_'That's right,'_ she thought. _'It was December 3__rd__ when I left. But this is the first snow that I've seen here. It must be a weird year here.'_

Denmark sighed in relief next to her. "Finally," he muttered. "I was a little concerned when the snow wasn't coming."

Anya was about to respond when she sneezed. She rubbed her nose and said, "Sorry. I'm a little bit more prone to sicknesses than most people. Being out in the cold is not good for me."

When he heard that, Denmark shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around her. He put a hand to silence her protests. "I'm adapted to the cold. You, obviously, are not."

Blushing, Anya held it closer around herself and walked closer to Denmark. He was practically a walking heat generator, which she was immensely grateful for.

Noticing this, he scooped her up bridal-style and began to carry her back. Anya wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Her ears picked up the faint sound of his pulse, and feeling brave, she placed a kiss right over it. A kiss on her forehead was her reward, and she sighed in bliss.

When they reached the door, Denmark set her down and brushed away the snow on her head. He smiled slightly. "I can't tell if all the snow is gone from your head or not."

Anya giggled. "Don't worry; it's gone."

He leaned towards her again, but the door flew open. "You'll catch cold if you stay out there much longer," Iceland said, glaring at Denmark.

The older country, however, simply laughed and walked in, taking Anya by the hand and leading her inside as well. The table was set, and Norway, Finland, and Sweden sat around it, waiting patiently for them.

Anya's stomach growled when she saw the feast they had prepared, reminding her that she hadn't had much to eat during these last few days. Still, she controlled herself and sat down.

Denmark took his place at the head of the table, with Norway to his left and Anya to his right, and gave a smile. "Would you like to say grace, Anya?"

She smiled back shyly at all of them. "I would love to."

Finland on her left and Denmark to her right took her hands and bowed her heads with the others at the table. Once she was sure everyone was quiet, she began to pray.

"Dear Father, I thank You for bringing us together at the table as a family, and for this food that has been prepared for us. But I especially thank you for sending everyone at this table to my rescue…and to be my new family. In Thy Holy Name, Amen."

"Amen," the others repeated, and unclasped their hands.

As Anya loaded up her plate, Iceland gave her a curious stare. "What happened to your last family?"

She stopped with her fork mid-way to her mouth and hesitated to say. No one had asked about her background, and even though she had spoken with Denmark all day, the subject of her family had never come up.

"Well…I'm an only child, so I never had any siblings growing up. And my father…" She stopped to compose herself. "He died when I was 5 years old, leaving my mother and I to take care of the market place he owned. We struggled a lot and there were times when my mother almost had to sell. But we still pulled through."

The tears she had been holding back overflowed as she thought of her mother's death. She knew that Crystal was only just in the bay, but knowing exactly when she would die made it hurt so much. "Then my mother died six months ago." Her voice wavered with emotion. "The market place was passed onto me, and I've been juggling my work and my education ever since." She swallowed. "I actually considered throwing myself off a cliff."

Everything, both the atmosphere and the people, froze. "You considered…_suicide_?" Norway asked, looking as though he had seen a ghost. "But surely your friends could've helped you with your duties."

Anya laughed sadistically. "The last time I had a real friend, I was 6 years old. Then they all started to avoid me because of what I could do. They _fear_ me because of it. They're all afraid of the _witch girl_."

Her tone was bitter and angry, and as she said 'witch girl', the water in their drinks suddenly burst out of their confinements and sailed around the room in the form of mini water dragons.

She stared at the dragons in shock. _'What? Why is this happening? I'm only supposed to have one power! What's going on?' _

Realizing that she was scaring them, Anya took a deep breath and put a rein on her anger. As she did, the water returned to their original cups as though nothing had happened.

"I'm sorry. I think I lost a little bit of control," she said calmly. "And you probably already know this, but I am a merchild.

"I only found this out recently, so I couldn't give an explanation for what I could do. As a result, people started avoiding me, except for my customers. They don't believe that I can actually do all that, so they come to me for anything they need."

She finally stopped to take a bite of food. "This is good. Smoked eel is my favorite. Did you make it, Finland?"

The silence that had formed shattered with Finland's voice. "I did," he said proudly. "I'd be glad to teach you how to make this."

"Thank you, Finland," she replied, smiling. If they had been freaked out by her explanation, then they were doing a good job of hiding it.

Iceland spoke up again. "Anya, will you be turned into a mermaid?"

She gave him a small smile. "I'm afraid not, Iceland. Denmark asked to court me, and I said yes." She thought she saw his jaw tighten slightly. "However, Crystal, a mermaid that I met here, said if I turned, then I couldn't court him. I wanted to try for a relationship, so I gave up my heritage."

Finland grinned widely. "Aww, that's so sweet!"

Sweden, however, raised an eyebrow at her. "'re ya s're? You're g'ving up yer h'r'tage f'r _th't_ 'diot?" He jerked a thumb in Denmark's direction.

A devious smile made its way onto her face. "Don't worry," she said sweetly. "I'll be trying to whip him into shape."

Denmark eyed her coyly over the rim of his beer tankard. "Will there be an actual whip involved?" It seemed like an innocent question, but the look in his eyes betrayed the true meaning of his words.

Both Norway and Anya smacked him upside the head at the same time, and he let out a strangled yelp of pain. "So abusive~!" he whined.

Norway caught her eye and the two shared a small private smile. But there was a look in his eye that told her that he had concluded something and she needed to know about it.

_'After dinner_,' he mouthed. She nodded minutely and continued to eat her fill.

***Chosen***

Sometime after the meal, Norway pulled her to the second floor hallway to talk. "Anya, you're not a normal merchild," he began.

"Gee, what a great way to begin a conversation," Anya responded sarcastically.

He ignored it and continued. "You are not the only one who knows Crystal. She had talked to me about your ability to speak to sea animals; do not think you are fooling me when you claimed that control over water was your only power." Anya went rigid, but she let him continue. "And Denmark has told me about your strange connection with the wolves in this region. They seem rather eager to do your bidding, and will stop at nothing to protect you, correct?"

Her thoughts went to Nikolai, whose body was somewhere out there being feasted upon. "That's right," she said warily.

"That should not happen."

She gave him a quizzical look. "What should not happen?"

"Mer do not connect well with the predators of the land. They are hunted by them, and yet, though the wolves can obviously smell the sea on you, that does not stop them." His gaze grew intense. "Anya, who were your parents?"

She tried to remember her father. "I-I know my mother was a mer, but I can't seem to remember who my father was. I'm fairly certain he was mer, though."

Norway studied her for a moment longer, and then sighed. "Then perhaps I was wrong. You can't be the Valgt. *Chosen*"

"The Valgt?" Anya asked curiously. "What's that?"

"The Valgt is a divine protector from old legend. I have read that it is a mer that will bring peace between the land and the sea; an _especially_ powerful mer with both the powers of the mer. So powerful, in fact, even the great sword _Tusmørke_ will do his bidding."

Anya's insides froze at the mention of that sword. "_Tusmørke_? The sword at the bottom of the ocean?"

He gazed at her sharply. "How do you know of it?"

Quickly, she covered up her blunder. "Crystal told me about it. She said that it was made by a human sorcerer and a merman for a specific person, but that it was stolen before they could give the name of the person."

It seemed to placate and Norway nodded. "Yes, that is the story. However, there is another aspect to the mystery of the Valgt; he will be of both human and mer blood."

For reasons she had yet to understand, her blood ran cold and her mouth felt dry. "So…it'd be a half-human, half-mer child? That could be anyone."

He sighed, as though he had explained this a thousand times before. "Humans and mer can't mate. If they do conceive, then the baby is doomed to death immediately."

Even though her heart felt like lead, she shook her head. "Both my parents were mer, I'm sure of it. I'm not the Valgt."

Norway nodded in agreement, and then turned to leave to his room. "Good night, Anya. This is a mystery to be solved at another time."

"Good night," she called back. Her insides were stones inside her, but she still walked to the room that was to be her own. But just as she was about to enter, Iceland's head peeked out from the door next to her. He looked slightly bashful, but he still spoke.

"Umm, Anya, could I ask you something?"

She paused and gave him a smile. "Of course, Iceland. What can I do for you?"

He bit his lip and his normally pale face flushed pink. "Could I…call you my older sister?"

His request filled her with pleasure and eased some of the knots in her stomach. In response, she knelt down and held out her arms.

Iceland immediately ran into her embrace and hugged her tightly. "I'm so scared, older sister," he sobbed quietly. "People might try to kill me and I don't know if I'm ready for that."

She rubbed the back of his head reassuringly. "Don't worry," she told him. "The others will take care of you." Anya tapped his nose playfully. "And if they don't, they'll have to answer to _me_, Denmark included."

He finally smiled and gave her one last hug. "Tell me if Denmark hurts you at all. I may be small, but I will hurt him if he even touches you the wrong way."

Anya chuckled. "I'm sure you wouldn't be alone. The others seem to like me pretty well, so Denmark will have his hands full if he does something wrong." She kissed his forehead. "Now head off to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow."

He released himself from her embrace, smiling widely. His happiness was clearly evident in his face, and Anya grinned.

_'I finally have the little brother I've wanted for so long.'_

***Chosen***

Despite her happy feelings, Anya stayed up late into the night, grasping her dagger tightly in her hand.

Her parents were both Danish, she knew that. They had met, dated, and gotten married in Copenhagen, and then immigrated to the States for a better future. It would've made sense that they were both mer. The only problem?

Anya had finally remembered what her father had looked like, and why her stomach had turned circles inside her. He had had brown hair, hazel eyes, and slightly tanned skin.

He had been a human.

**WHOAAAAA! CLIFFIE! **

**In case you didn't notice, I think chibi!Iceland is the most adorable thing since SuFin. Although, puppies are a fairly close contender...**

**So, how about reviewing, hmm? **


	8. Chapter 8

**HAPPY SINGLE'S AWARENESS DAY, PEEPS! (what I call Valentine's Day; forever alone -_-) Well, since I don't have any hot date tonight, I suppose I'll just give you this chapter instead. Call it a gift from me to those who DO have a significant other or sweetheart. **

**Also, a quick side note: Thanks to FusososoLaugh for making _me_ laugh! I'm glad that my story is squeal-worthy, and I hope you enjoy what I write! **

Anya had just barely drifted off into an uneasy sleep when the smell of breakfast cooking woke her up again. Stretching and cracking her bones, she ignored her boots and simply smoothed out her clothes.

_'I really need to make more clothes,'_ she thought groggily. Another trip to the cloth stall was in order. But first she had to get money. She had no doubt in her mind that the men who lived in this house would gladly give her the money she needed, but she lived on her for far too long. Relying on others was simply out of the question.

But that was a worry for later. She had to get down to breakfast before it was all gone.

She hurried down the stairs to the table, where Denmark was sitting with a mug of tea. He glanced up at her and started to laugh. "You have quite the bed-head, babe."

Instinctively, she ran a hand through her tangled looks. "_You're_ one to talk," she retorted.

Indeed, Denmark's already-wild hair had gone berserk, spiking up in a thousand different directions. He grimaced and the mocking tone disappeared from his tone. "Yeah, I guess I shouldn't be."

"Well, I know how it can be solved," she told him sweetly. Her eye had caught a stray cup of water behind him, and with a flick of her finger behind her back, it rose up in a floating ball of water. _'If you've got it, flaunt it.'_

Denmark remained oblivious to the prank hanging literally right over his head. He raised an eyebrow. "And what solution is that?"

Anya smiled. "This." And with that, she released her control over the blob of water and let it drop.

Laughter bubbled out of her at Denmark's shocked expression. Water dripped down his body and his hair hung plastered to his head. "What the-? Did you just do what I think you did?"

"What, dump water on your head? I believe I just did," Anya cackled.

His eyes burned with mischief. "You should not have pranked the King of Scandinavia, babe."

In the speed of an eye blink, he picked her up and carried her out the door on his shoulder. She let out an uncharacteristic squeal and tried to free herself, but to no avail.

The icy air stung her skin, but Denmark paid it no mind as he carried her towards somewhere; she couldn't exactly tell. Looking up, she saw Sweden standing at the window of his room on the second floor. She made a begging motion and pleaded with her eyes, but he shook his head no, a tiny smile on his face.

"_FÖRRÄDARE_! *TRAITOR!*" she yelled in Swedish, shaking her fist at him. Denmark only chuckled and kicked open a door.

_'Wha-?'_

Her unspoken question was answered when she was tossed into a wooden tub filled with warm water. She came up sputtering indignantly and gave a hard look to Denmark, who was rolling around on the floor laughing. "You idiot! I don't have any other clothes!"

He composed himself long enough to prop himself up on his elbows, smirking. "Not a problem." Standing, he ran out of the bath house, leaving Anya to wonder what on earth he was doing.

Denmark came back a few minutes later, wearing a mischievous smile. "When you arrived, the dressmaker came over and took measurements to make you some clothes."

With a flourish, he revealed what he had been hiding behind his back: a red and white dress.

Anya's jaw dropped. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. I'm not wearing that _thing!_" She gave the dress in question a venomous look.

"Aww, but babe, please? Wear it for me?"

She was about to say 'Not happening,' but then Denmark pulled out one of the greatest and world-renowned tricks in history: A dazzling smile coupled with the puppy eyes.

_'Can't…handle…cute…resolve…melting…abort resistance!'_ "Fine," she sighed. "Leave it there and let me dry off."

He grinned and kissed her cheek. "Don't be too long!" And with that, he left the bath house triumphantly.

Sighing, Anya removed her wet clothes, bathed, and dried off. Picking up the dress, she studied it to see what kind of complicated mess it might be. To her surprise (and pleasure), it simply slipped over her head with a small amount of ties in the back.

But as soon as she put it on, she realized that she couldn't reach her arms around herself to tie it. Fervently, she prayed that someone would come to help her with predicament. _'Please, anyone but Matthias!' _

Her savior came in the form of Finland, who knocked at the door. "Anya? Are you decent?"

"Actually, I could use your help with something," she called back. "If it's not too much to ask, I mean."

Slowly, Finland opened the door and studied her problem. "Oh, that's alright. I'll help you."

He walked over to her and tied the back of her dress with ease. Then, just as he pulled away, he fingered her silver hair. "Could I…?"

She smiled at him. "Go ahead. It's been a while since I've had my hair set."

He grinned like a small child at Christmas and pulled out a hairbrush from a drawer in the wall. "This may hurt a little," he confessed," since your hair is tangled so badly."

She sat down on a nearby chair and braced herself. The brush caught on some of the snarls of her hair and she let out a hiss of pain.

"Sorry," Finland apologized, and then continued working his way through the knots. In what seemed like no time, Anya's hair was tangle-free and Finland began to gently style her hair around a silver circlet. "What do you think?"

He gave her a mirror, and she studied herself. Her hair was braided through with the circlet, and the rest of it fell down her back in smooth waves. But what really set it off was the dress.

It was a square-cut neck line and showed a little of her potentially large cleavage. The sleeves ended in the middle of her hand with a sharp point and were embroidered with white curlicues. The rest of the dress was designed in the same way, with the hem of the dress brushing the ground. The colors reminded her of something, but it didn't strike her why until after a moment of contemplation. It was the colors of the _Dannebrog_, the Danish flag.

A small smile formed on her face as she tugged her boots on. "Matthias had this dress specifically made for me, didn't he?"

Finland laughed nervously. "Uhh…yes? He told you that fish story about how the dressmaker made this for you by accident, didn't he?"

Her smile spread to her eyes. "How sweet," she murmured. "I've never had such a beautiful dress before." Anya smoothed out her lap as she stood. "I'll have to tell him thank you."

***Chosen***

As she walked back into the house, she could practically _hear_ Denmark's jaw drop from across the room. Letting out an uncharacteristically high giggle, she did a slow twirl, letting the skirt of the dress flow out around her. "How does it look?"

"You look…stunning," he murmured. Standing up from the table, he pulled out a belt of small silver hoops and draped it on her hips. "There: A picture of beauty."

A small pillow connected with the back of his head. Whirling around, Denmark's annoyed gaze met Iceland's aggravated one.

"Don't touch my sister like that," he growled out. A puffin by his feet, that Anya had only just noticed, let out an angry squawk.

Denmark was about to fire a harsh retort to the younger country when Anya stepped in. "Denmark, calm down. He only wants to be sure you're treating me correctly."

Turning to Iceland, she knelt down in front of him and explained quietly to him in Icelandic. "I understand you're protective of me, just as I am of you. But don't worry; Denmark was touching me to fasten the belt, nothing more." A crooked smile spread on her face. "If it was, then he'd be sporting my hand print on his face."

Iceland smiled widely and let out a light chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't worry about you too much, then."

Anya smiled back, and looked down at the puffin. "Who's this?"

"This is Mr. Puffin," he explained plainly. "He's been looking for fish these last few days, and he's only just returned."

"Hello there," she greeted the animal. She held out her hand and Mr. Puffin rubbed his head against it. "I'd say he likes me."

"He likes most people," Iceland shrugged. "Besides Denmark."

Anya laughed.

***Chosen***

By the time they got going, they had to run to make it to the docks. Anya had only just remembered her dagger in time, and slipped it into a loop at her hip.

Running through the forest with the Nordics gave Anya a sense of elation, of finally belonging somewhere. She ran at the head of the group, her borrowed red cloak billowing out behind her. Denmark ran at her left, Norway to her right, Iceland directly behind her, and Finland and Sweden taking up the rear. A smile plastered on her face, she began to run faster.

The feeling of the cold wind against her face was exhilarating, and she relished the feeling. With every stride she took, she seemed to sail through the trees.

All too soon, she thought, the port had come into their line of sight, and she slid to a stop. The Nordics panted heavily behind her, while she had barely broken a sweat.

Finland looked up from his hunched-over position. "How did you…do that?" he gasped.

Anya shrugged. "I ran a lot back home. There were many times when I had to run to make some of my classes."

"Ya think?" Denmark wheezed sarcastically.

A loud horn sounded, and the Scandinavian countries straightened. "That's our call to go," Norway said plainly. His breath still came out in slight pants, which she found amusing.

Much to his surprise, Anya walked over to him and embraced him. She did the same to Finland and Iceland, and with some difficulty, managed to hug Sweden. When she reached Denmark, she put her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him deeply. "When will you be back?" she asked once she released him.

He shook his head to clear it of the fogginess that had resulted from Anya's kiss. "In about a week," he confirmed. "Don't worry; we'll be back before you know it!"

She smiled sadly and kissed him again. "Have a safe trip."

They bade her good-bye and boarded their long boat. It pulled away from the docks, and Anya watched it sail away until it was out of sight. Mentally, she sent a prayer to God to protect them, and also sent a command to the waves to stay calm on their journey.

_'Come back soon, my Viking.' _

***Chosen***

Anya started to walk through the village square back to the house when she became aware of the stares sent her way. She turned her head and met the curious gazes from everyone in the villages.

An old woman with white hair, wrinkled skin, and obsidian eyes approached her cautiously. "You have mer blood, do you not?"

_'Hoo, boy. Here we go.'_ "Yes. What of it?" She kept a cool neutral face, neither warm nor cold.

"Then why do you court Lord Denmark?" the woman demanded shrilly. "You know such a union is forbidden!"

She sighed slightly. "Understand this, madam; I have not been turned, so therefore, I am not a mermaid."

Before she even finished her sentence, however, a bucket of seawater was dumped on her head.

She rubbed the salt out of her eyes and looked down at her dress. "Oh, the dress Matthias gave me is stained," she remarked quietly. "I'll have to fix that later."

The townspeople around her paled. "L-Lord Denmark gave you that dress?" the old woman squeaked. All around her, the people started speaking to each other anxiously.

"She speaks the truth!"

"She hasn't been turned!"

"Will she report to Lord Denmark of her treatment?"

"Please," Anya said, trying to ease the tension. "It doesn't matter. I can fix my dress easi- Ah-_CHOO!_" _'I've already got the sniffles? Curse my bad immune system!' _

Immediately, the townspeople crowded around her, offering her food, drink, a change of clothes, even a place to stay for the night, all free of charge.

"Please!" she cried. "I am fine! I bear no ill will against any of you!" _'I've been here for only 4 days, and I'm already talking like them? Jeez.' _

The crowd around her eased, and she could breathe a little easier. "Thank you. Now I think I'll go home."

No sooner had the words left her mouth then a nearby building began to burn. Women began to scream, and men tried to get everyone out. 5 people were escorted out, but one woman in particular was screaming, "My boy! My boy is still in there!"

Without thinking, Anya ran into the home to look for the missing child. The smoke filled her nostrils, and she covered her face to keep it out of her system.

Everything was ablaze, and the smoke was making things difficult to see, but she managed. Running through the building, she listened for anything, and soon heard the cries of a little boy trapped behind a door.

She took a running start and rammed the door with her shoulder. The wood cracked and splintered, but did not break. She ran into it again, and this time, the weakened wood gave way and fell to the ground. Anya scanned the room, and soon found the boy, no older than what Iceland looked like, curled into a ball, coughing violently.

Striding into the room, she put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up. "Momma?" he croaked.

Anya shook her head. "No, but I'm going to get you back to your mother." She picked him up and ran through the building to the outside.

The smoke in her body was slowly taking over her, but she managed to walk to the boy's mother and hand him over to her. Turning back to the blazing fire, she held out her hands and closed her eyes. She could sense the ocean ebbing not too far away, and called it to her.

Two thick streams of water were summoned, and the townspeople gasped in astonishment. They hovered near her, but Anya held them there for a moment, before she lifted her arms skyward. The streams followed and stayed there, until finally Anya gently released her hold over them, drenching the flames in a soft rainfall.

When the house was safely doused, Anya sank to her knees and coughed. "Water," she strained.

Immediately, a bucket of water was given to her, and she tipped her head back, drinking it all hastily. She panted slightly as the water inside her seemed to erase all traces of the smoke.

"My Lady?" The old woman was looking at her with fear.

"Anya," she said after taking a deep breath. "You may call me Anya."

She stood and began to walk away, when she heard a single person begin to applaud. Turning her head, she looked bewildered around at all of them as they all began to follow suit. Soon, thunderous applause began to sound throughout the square, and Anya's arm was lifted in victory.

"Here's to the Merchild!"

A feast in her honor was suggested, but she politely declined. A man came up to her, and smiled slightly.

"My name is Eywolf," he said. His brown eyes looked bashful, but he continued. "I was at the tavern when you sang, and your voice is the most beautiful one I've ever heard." He rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a few gold and silver pieces. "The other patrons and I wanted to thank you for it, so we all pitched in and came up with this."

Shyly, he held them out to her, and she hesitantly took them. "Thank you, Eywolf." Anya's gaze met his, and she smiled genuinely at him. "Tell the other patrons I thank them as well."

Eywolf ran a hand through his black hair bashfully. "Of course, Lady Anya."

She was about to tell him to call her by her real name when she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Something's wrong," she said aloud, and she took off into the forest. Eywolf called after her, but she was soon out of earshot.

Anya ran through the trees in the direction her instincts were telling her to go. The farther she went, the more the trees seemed to be burned horribly. Soon, she saw a form lying face-down in the snow. Hurrying over, she turned the woman over and audibly gasped.

The woman had vicious-looking burns all over her skin, and her entire face was burned beyond recognition. But that was not what unnerved Anya the most.

The most horrifying part of it all was the fact that she had been split wide-open, straight down the middle, and all her internal organs were gone.

**CLIFFIE! What is it with me and cliffhangers? Aw, well, it keeps you reading, right? **

**A small explanation; I know Anya didn't act that differently in the first part. That's because she's trying to not let anyone know what she's found out just yet. She doesn't want anyone to treat her differently, and she most certainly doesn't want to make things sour between her and Denmark. **

**And a note to Timothythetank: there's always been pirates on the seas for as long as people have been sailing, *cough*England*cough*, so what he's afraid of is that they'll run into those pirates and they'd go after him and kill him. But I understand your confusion; hope I explained it all! **

**Review! **


	9. Chapter 9

**WELCOME BACK, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I have nothing to say, so go ahead and read! **

Anya did the next logical thing she could think of: she screamed for help.

"EYWOLF!"

A few minutes later, the man had come running, his brown eyes confused. "What is the-?" His question faltered when he saw the victim. All the color drained from his face. "I-Impossible…they were driven far away 50 years ago."

"What?" Anya demanded. "What was driven far away 50 years ago?"

"The fire harpies," Eywolf said shakily. "They appear as humans, but they are dangerous, volatile creatures. They trap their prey with fire, then burn them alive and split them down the middle, eating their organs."

Anya's stomach churned, and she let out a gag. "Disgusting," she managed.

"Indeed." Eywolf looked around the woods nervously. "We must go now, Anya. I do not know if the fire harpies are still in these woods."

"We need to get her back," she said, barely managing to keep a lid on her anger. How dare these fire harpies prey on innocent people like these? No one deserved to die like this.

"Anya?"

Without another word, Anya picked up the body and began to carry it back to the village. Her mind was immediately going through the reasons for this. The fire in the village must have been a diversion for the harpies to feed on this poor woman. And what drew them back here in the first place?

The stares had glued themselves to her again, but this time, Anya paid them no mind. She walked to the center of the square and set the body on the ground carefully. Looking up, she faced the crowd and began to speak.

"I found this woman in the woods after I felt something was wrong. Eywolf has informed me that this is the work of fire harpies. Make no mistake; I will find them and they will face my wrath."

The body was taken away, and Anya whirled around, heading to the cliffs. If she was to defeat them, she needed to know everything there was to know about fire harpies. And the best source was Crystal.

After all, Mother knows best.

***Chosen***

"_Fire harpies?_"

"Yes," Anya replied calmly. "They've come back, and they've already killed at least one woman."

Crystal looked anxious, and flapped her fins against the rock she was sitting on. "Well, fire harpies are extremely difficult to kill, but they do have one weakness: They love music. Much like mer, but unlike us, they can't resist the pull they feel when they hear it."

"So that's it?"

"Heavens no!" Crystal exclaimed. "The only people that can kill a fire harpy are mer. Though, you could be of mer blood, and you could still kill them."

Anya ran a thumb over the scabbard of her knife thoughtfully. "Is there a specific weapon that I need to have?"

"Yes. You'll need a mer weapon."

"Got it," she replied, holding up the knife. "Denmark found it on the rocks one day, and he gave it to me as a gift."

Crystal looked pained at the mention of Denmark, but took a closer look at the knife and gasped. "That's Spejl *Mirror*! It's been lost for centuries!"

"Spejl?" Anya asked, looking at the knife in astonishment. "Why is it called Spejl?"

"Because it's enchanted," Crystal explained. "Not only is it a powerful weapon, it can show you exactly what happened in the area you're in. Simply put its reflection in the blade, and it'll appear in a manner of minutes."

Anya sighed. "What is it with me and enchanted weapons? First Tusmørke, and now Spejl? Man." She held the knife out to Crystal. "So I guess I have to turn it over to you?"

"Absolutely not!" Crystal said emphatically. "If it's came to you, then you keep it! No arguments!"

She composed herself and continued her explanation. "And you have to be sure to decapitate them thoroughly. Otherwise, the harpy will regenerate and keep going after you."

Anya nodded, and asked, "What do you think drew them back?"

Crystal sighed. "Fire harpies can be driven out by sorcerors, but only until after that generation of harpies have died. Once they're totally gone, another generation of fire harpies can move in to that area. Sadly, the humans don't know this, so they often get a nasty surprise when harpies show up again."

Anya digested this information. "How many do you think are here?"

"Most likely just one. Only one body has shown up, and a single harpy can only take down a single human at a time."

"So once I get rid of this one, we'll be free once again," she mused. She turned to leave, but Crystal stopped her with a single question:

"Why are you going to all this trouble? You're not even from this country."

She paused and took a deep breath. "Because I want to protect everyone while the nations are gone. Since Matthias is courting me, and he's technically the leading nation here, I feel responsible for everyone."

And with that, she continued her trek back to the cliff.

***Chosen***

Anya declined everyone's offers to escort her back to the house that night, and walked alone in the woods. She sang as sweetly as she could to attract the fire harpies, choosing both English and Danish songs.

_'I wanna know; can you show me? I wanna know 'bout these strangers like me…'_

A crack of a branch overhead caught her attention, but still she sang. The sound of snow crunching underneath feet sounded behind her, and she quietly unsheathed Spejl. Just as hands were reaching out to close around her neck, she whirled around and beheaded the intruder. The harpy's head flew off, and Anya looked at it closer.

Disgusting. That was the only word she could come up with to describe it. A shriveled face with burned-looking skin was framed by a bald head. The mouth was filled with sharp, vicious fangs, stained with past meals. The eyes were pitch-black, and stared at her with malicious intent, but the head and body did not re-connect, and she relaxed.

"And now vengeance is mine." Getting up, she continued her way back, content with her work.

However, she didn't notice how another harpy came running up to the body or how she cried over the loss of her sister and swore revenge upon her.

_'Fear not, Amara. I, your sister Rosaria, will avenge you, and I know exactly how.' _

Rosaria stood, and in a burst of fire, flew into the sky and flew to the far north, where no life at all existed. She searched for a long while until she finally found the mountain she was looking for. Standing in front of it, Rosaria placed her hand on the symbol of the fire there and breathed deeply. Slowly, the symbol brightened until it glowed a sinister green, and the mountain split down the middle.

From the very center, a form rose and Rosaria knelt down, bowing to it. "Master. Your faithful servant has freed you, and I wish to ask something of you."

The shadowed shape chuckled menacingly. "Of course, my dear. You may have anything you ask of me."

"I wish for the mer that killed my sister Amara to be killed," she requested quickly. A hand rested on her shoulder, and lifted her to face him. He put his other hand on her forehead and searched through her memories.

"I see," he said slowly. "It shall be done. But first, my dear, you must lend me some of your power. Then I shall begin my plan."

Immediately, Rosaria allowed some of her power to escape from her to the shadow, and it became slightly more tangible. "We must move quickly," he said. "I sense the Valgt is near; if he is to find out of our plan before it is executed, we shall both be doomed."

Rethos suddenly smiled cruelly. "Ah, the Valgt has family. I sense them. Why don't we go...introduce ourselves?"

***Chosen***

Anya entered the house and sighed. It was so empty without her family, and she felt hollow inside as well. She made herself some chicken soup in the kitchen and ate it alone at the table. After cleaning up, she wandered throughout the house, going through each room and exploring.

Sweden's room, she found, was made of beautifully-crafted furniture and immaculate bed sheets. The floor was swept, and everything was in its place.

Finland's room was on the other end of the spectrum. Things were tossed here and there, and a desk overflowed with drawings of inventions that Anya recognized as the forerunners of some very modern items, such as a computer or a cell phone. _'Ah, Finland. You are several hundred years ahead of your time.'_

After searching through a few other rooms, she came into Norway's room and her eyes widened.

There were shelves upon shelves of books at the back wall. She hadn't seen such a beautiful thing as a book in nearly 4 days. As an avid reader, her hands twitched at her sides. _'Must…read…now!' _

She crossed the room in two strides and ran her hands over the leather-bound books lovingly. A red-leather one with gold lettering caught her eye, and she stood on her toes to get it.

The title, she found, was in Norwegian and was named _A Guide to Scandinavian Legends. _She remembered Crystal and Norway's stories.

_'Maybe I'll find something in here that'll help me with this whole _Valgt_ thing._'

Taking the book, she walked down to the sitting area and made herself comfortable on the couch. Turning to the index, she scanned it for information on Tusmørke, turned to the specified page, and began to read.

**'Tusmørke is a sword of great mystery. Forged by a human sorcerer and a mer, the sword is made for the Valgt, who is to battle Rethos, the separation spirit, to end the rift between mer and humans. Until then, Tusmørke will obey no man and wreak havoc, never fading away until the great battle.**

** 'Tusmørke's powers are somewhat endless. It can do whatever the Valgt asks of it, and will not hesitate to kill anyone in its way. Because of this, the last king to wield the sword threw it and the armor made for the Valgt into the sea. It has not been seen for the last 300 years.' **

Anya pursed her lips. "So you've been sleeping for 300 years, huh?" she murmured. "Long time with nothing to do."

Flipping back to the index, she found 'Rethos' and flipped to his description.

**'Rethos is the separation spirit that placed the curse on humans and mer, forbidding them to be able to intermarry. It is said that he was a human himself who fell in love with a mermaid. However, she did not love him back and rejected him. Broken-hearted, he drowned in his misery and became bitter towards the human and mer lovers who were together. As a result, when he died, he became a spirit that placed a curse on the mer and humans that would not allow them to have children together or to even be together. **

** 'But all was not lost. Before Rethos had cast the curse, the mer and human sorcerer predicted a savior of half-mer, half-human blood that would end the separation between the two species, and created Tusmørke to aid the chosen one. **

** 'When Rethos had killed the two creators of the sword, he went after all the half-bloods and killed them as well. But God, seeing the havoc he wreaked, froze him in a land far to the north, and bade that he would not hurt anyone again. As a result, when Rethos is freed, he will come back in a form of fire, and be unable to be around water. But now that all the half-bloods are gone, it is uncertain who will be able to stop him.' **

A chill ran down her back. So that's why she had been brought back here. All the other half-bloods were gone, and the only way Rethos could be defeated was if she was brought from the future.

God. Of course. It had to be Him. There was no other explanation. Anya smiled slightly. _'So I'm now going to be a savior for both humankind and mer-kind. I'm still not quite sure how I feel about that.' _

She turned back to the index and searched for the section on the Valgt. Once she did, Anya read through it quickly.

**'Little is known about the Valgt. All that is known is that the Valgt will be of mer and human blood, and that their powers will be of both powers of the mer. Not only that, but they will have a special connection with the land animals, the wolf in particular. A single wolf is to aid the Valgt in their quest to vanquish Rethos once and for all, which is why the wolf is a revered animal. Their powers are not limited to the water. Rocks and air will also obey them to an extent, but not to the point of making them advantageous powers. The only element that they will be unable to control is fire, which the very form Rethos will return in.' **

She shook her head in amazement. _'I can't believe how informative this book is. Why didn't I look for this earlier?'_

Closing the book, she leaned back and wondered, _'Rethos is probably going to be coming back soon. The only question is when exactly?'_

Getting up, she walked to the second story and returned the book to Norway's room. As she did, however, a cold loneliness settled over her, and she turned towards Denmark's room almost on autopilot.

Once inside, she lit a candle and found another trunk by the pile of furs that served as his bed. She opened it, and found his entire wardrobe just thrown in there haphazardly, and a small smile formed on her face. Digging around, her hand brushed across a small bag. Bringing it up to her nose, she caught the smell of peppermint and heard the plant leaves crinkle as she grasped it.

_'So that's where he got that peppermint smell from,'_ Anya thought. _'He put a bag of it in his trunk to make his clothes smell nice, and it transferred to his skin.' _

She pulled one of his shirts out and held it against herself, measuring; it fell almost to her knees. Fumbling with the strings of her dress and pulling out her circlet, she slipped the shirt over her head and climbed into his bed. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the smell of him, and her unease calmed. Wrapping the furs around her, she fell asleep peacefully, surrounded by Denmark.

***Chosen***

Her dreams were anything but peaceful. In them, she could see the ship that Denmark and the others had set sail on, where it was under attack. But it was not under attack by a normal enemy. Instead, it was a huge form made entirely out of fire.

Denmark was yelling orders at his men while trying to fight the monster himself with his axe to little avail. Norway vainly tried to throw water at the creature, but as she watched, he was engulfed in fire; when it disappeared, Norway was gone.

Sweden, then Finland, and then Denmark all vanished the same way Norway did. Iceland was approached with fire, but he quickly dove off the side and into the water.

Anya screamed in fear when she saw her adopted brother sink into the waves, but then a water dragon sailed out of the water, Iceland on its back. A determined look was on his face, and he directed the dragon back to Denmark.

She woke up, screaming and crying hysterically. "NO! BERWALD! TINO! LUKAS! MATTHIAS!"

Raising her fist, she brought it down on the floor, and the whole house shook. "RETHOS! YOU DID THIS!" she screeched. "MARK MY WORDS, RETHOS! YOU TOOK MY FAMILY AND YOU'LL _PAY!_"

**I seriously have to cool it with these cliffhangars. I'm probably going to be brutally murdered one of these days if I don't. **

**I'm not hugely proud of this chapter, but it is an important one. So if you miss it, things aren't gonna make sense in the next chapters. **

**Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm so sorry, guys. I think this'll be the last chapter I'll be able to upload before I leave for my trip. *ducks as axes, pipes, and white flags go sailing past head* I'm SORRY! But I won't have WiFi where I'm going (not telling you where; don't want any of you hunting me down), and so I won't be able to publish ANYTHING. But I will still be thinking of you all, and I promise to upload like crazy when I get back. I don't have school this Monday, so that's when I'll be doing all my uploading (getting back late Sunday). Until then, please enjoy this latest chapter!**

Red lined Anya's vision as she found her normal clothes and dressed. Storming down the stairs, she grabbed her knife and put it into her boot top. She just barely registered that all the standing water in the house was bubbling dangerously, mirroring her anger.

She grabbed a cloak and pushed open the door. At her fierce glare, the newly-fallen snow melted into a walkway, and Anya marched out.

"Sister!"

Looking up, a little of her fury eased when she saw Iceland on the back of the water dragon that she had no doubt created in her sleep. Spreading her hand out, she called the dragon down lower so Iceland could jump off safely.

Once he righted himself, he ran to her, sobbing. "S-Sister, they're-they're all g-gone!" he cried. "Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway, they were-"

"Taken," Anya finished darkly. "And I know who did it." Standing up, she stared out at the forest. "I know you're out there! Show yourself, fire harpy!"

The sudden blaze of fire blinded them, but when their eyesight returned, the harpy was standing there, looking murderous. "I am Rosaria," she growled. "You killed my sister."

Anya shielded Iceland with her body and cast a steely-eyed gaze at her. "You kidnapped my family. Care to bring them back before you go to rejoin your sister?"

The harpy's face twisted in a look of sick glee. "Oh, but _I _did not take them. Master did that on his own."

"After you foolishly released him," Anya gritted out. "How could you have doomed the world to such a fate over something as petty as this?"

"_PETTY?!_" Rosaria's eyes flashed, and Iceland whimpered from behind Anya. "You _MURDERED_ my _SISTER_!"

"After _she_ murdered an innocent woman!" Anya shot back. Her old fury returned, and the snow around melted and became a large wall of water surrounding them, trapping the fire harpy.

The predator, however, did not look concerned. "You foolish mer!" Fire burned in the palms of her hands. "Master made sure you could not defeat me! Only the Valgt can kill me!"

"Well, that's just too bad."

As fast as lightning, Anya had drawn Spejl and was at her throat. "I _am_ the Valgt_._ Enjoy your life in hell."

The look of horror remained on the hag-like face, even when Anya had severed her head.

The water turned back into snow, and Anya sheathed Spejl. Turning back to her little brother, she saw a look of astonishment and awe on his face. "Y-You're the-"

"Yes. And I fully intend to kick Rethos's ass all the way from here to the end of the universe.

"But first, I need my sword."

***Chosen***

Standing at the water's edge, Anya stared down into the inky-black depths where her weapon lay. Closing her eyes, she held her hand out and summoned the sword from its watery grave.

The water boiled once again, and the light once again blinded her, but she heard the casket set down at her feet. When she opened her eyes, Anya knelt down and opened it. _Tusmørke_ laid there just as the last time she had seen it, but now, the circumstances far graver.

Picking up the swords, she brought the hilt to her lips and whispered, "My family is in danger, _Tusmørke_; are you willing to fight with me?"

In response, _Tusmørke_ pulsed in her grasp. Anya took a deep breath. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Wait!"

Looking up, Anya saw Crystal floating in the water, looking worried. "You're going to fight Rethos, aren't you?"

Anya nodded solemnly. "I'm the Valgt; it's my destiny."

"Not yet, you aren't." When Anya gave her a quizzical look, Crystal smiled ruefully. "You'll need to be a mermaid for that."

Immediately, Anya knew what had to be done. "You'll have to turn me, won't you?"

Iceland looked alarmed. "But-But- you won't be able to see me…or court Denmark!"

Crystal shook her head. "Since she's the Valgt, the curse won't matter. Soon, when she defeats Rethos, we'll all be to inter-mingle."

Anya knelt down in front of her mother. "Let's get on with it."

The other woman nodded, and cupped her hand. Filling it with seawater, she brought it up to Anya's face and tipped it into her mouth.

The salt water burned her throat, but it was instantly cooled by the chill that ran through her body. Anya gasped audibly and trembled violently at the sensations. Her vision blackened, her senses dulled, and her body fell limp on the rocks.

The chill gave way to pain and Anya let out a little whimper. Vaguely, she felt Iceland's hand on her and she anchored herself on that.

Finally, everything came back to her, and she sat up groggily. Opening her eye, she realized that everything had sharpened distinctly. Sounds were crisper, and her vision was filled with high-quality images of everything. Her nose caught every little smell, and her limbs felt stronger than ever.

Iceland's timid little whimper caught her ears and she turned to him. "Yes, Iceland?"

Minuscule tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. "Are you alright?"

She gave him a small reassuring look and pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, Iceland. I'm alright."

He buried his head in her shirt. "Emil," he said, his voice muffled. "I want you to call me Emil."

Anya ruffled the hair on the back of his pale-colored head. "Very well, Emil." Cautiously, she stood and cracked her bones. "Well, then. I'd say I'm ready."

"Not quite."

Anya looked over, and saw her mother moving away the wolf-skin in the casket, revealing silver-and-gold armor perfectly tailored for a woman. The chest plate was silver with a gold cross on the front, and Anya felt _Tusmørke_ pulse at her side. Within seconds, the armor appeared on her, clinking into their appropriate places. She looked down at herself, experimentally moving around. The armor fit as easily a second-skin, and the metal weighed almost nothing to her.

Iceland looked at his older sister in awe. "That's so amazing," he murmured. "You look really good in armor."

Anya slipped _Tusmørke_'s scabbard cord around her waist. "I agree." She glanced at Iceland. "But you don't have any armor."

_Tusmørke_ pulsed yet again, and armor clinked into existence on Iceland. Anya hummed her approval, and with a flick of her head, two daggers popped into existence at Iceland's side. "That's better."

She turned back to her mother. "Will you be going, Crystal?"

Crystal shook her head. "I've never fought before. I wouldn't be of any use to you." Her eyes misted over. "But I want you both to be safe. Please come back."

Anya nodded. "We will, and the other countries will be with us."

A howl sounded through the bay, and Anya turned around. Fenris stood at the beach, his pack behind him. He bounded over and came to a halt in front of Anya. He looked up at her, his blue eyes penetrating hers, and then he bowed in front of her, showing that he would serve her no matter what happened. She knelt in front of him and scratched his ears. "Thank you, Fenris," she whispered to him. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Suddenly, the water around them churned violently, and an enormous dragon, a flesh-and-blood one, rose up from the depths of the bay. Though Iceland yelped and Crystal gasped, Anya stared up at the beast fearlessly. Sunlight glinted off its golden scales, and it aimed its red-eyed gaze back at her. Opening its mouth, a thick, gravelly voice rolled across the bay.

"You are the Valgt, are you not?"

"I am," Anya replied.

The dragon threw his head back and laughed. The sound was like two rocks grinding against each other. "The masters did not tell me that the Valgt was to be female!"

Controlling himself, he bowed his head to her. "I am Aiman. A thousand years ago, two masters saved my life, and I wished to repay them. They were making that sword for the Valgt and they asked me if I would be willing to assist the Valgt in their quest to destroy Rethos. I agreed, and they put me in a deep sleep at the bottom of the bay, only to wake when _Tusmørke_ called to me."

"I am Anya," she proclaimed, bowing to him as well. "This is my little brother, Emil, and my friend, Crystal." She squared her shoulders as she spoke. "The rest of my family has been kidnapped by Rethos, and I fully intend to rescue them."

Aiman cocked his head at her. "And one of them is your beloved?"

A heavy blush threatened to present itself on her face, but she forced it away. "Yes."

The grinding rocks came back, and she winced slightly. "Very well, then! I have always had a weakness for sweethearts; even if you were not the Valgt, I would gladly offer my services."

Rising fully up out of the water, Aiman crawled onto the rocks and shook off the remaining water on his hide. Anya was splattered, and watched in amazement as small fins on her forearms poked through her armor. But as she dried, the fins disappeared, and she cracked a small smile. "That's amazing," she murmured.

"It is your mer blood," Aiman explained. "Whenever you get wet, that is what will happen."

He laid his head down. "Climb on my neck, all of you," he commanded. "We will fly to Rethos's castle as fast as we can."

The whispering of people nearby caught Anya's attention and she looked up. The village people were all standing on the cliff, looking into the bay with awe. A thought struck her. "They don't know about what's happened," she mused aloud. She turned to Aiman. "Can you hover in front of that cliff for a little bit as I tell them what's happened?"

"But of course." He flapped his wings, almost sending them tumbling off-balance.

"Excellent."

Crystal gripped Anya's hands tightly once more. "Be safe," she said again, sounding teary. "I love you like you're my own daughter; please come back."

"I will," Anya said, and quickly hugged her mother. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. "I have to go now."

"Good luck!"

And with that, Anya scurried to Aiman and climbed on his neck in front of Iceland and Fenris. "Fly up there," she told him.

He complied and as he rose, the people screamed in fear. However, Anya leveled her gaze at them and spoke loudly and clearly.

"People of Denmark, you should know me as Anya the Merchild. But now, you will know me as Anya the Valgt." A murmur ran through the crowd, but she did not stop there. "I have seen in my dreams that Rethos has been released and that he has captured Lords Denmark, Norway, Finland, and Sweden. Iceland escaped his clutches and he returned to give me the news." Fire burned in her eyes. "Rest assured that they will _all_ return; I will fight to my dying breath to bring them back if necessary. But above all else, I _will_ kill Rethos and bring an end to the fear of his return!"

A joyous yell rose up through the crowd, and Anya turned Aiman in the direction of where Rethos had last been seen. Fury simmered beneath the surface of her skin, forcing her fear of heights away from her conscious. _'Rethos, you better be prepared for me, because I __will__ be coming…_

_ 'And I'm going to raise absolute __hell__ for you.' _

***Chosen***

Denmark let out another yell of pain. He was chained to the wall in the dungeon of a fiery castle. And his captor, Rethos, thought it would be amusing for him to be tortured with liquid fire being forced down his back. He could already tell that this cruelty would most definitely leave scars, deep ones. "Why are you doing this?!" he screamed at his captor. "I don't know anything about the Valgt!"

The shadow figure stroked what would have been his chin thoughtfully as he stared into a fire pit. "Oh, I am well aware of that," he informed Denmark silkily. "Obviously, you didn't know you were even courting the Valgt. But no matter."

As he writhed in pain, Rethos showed the image of Anya and Iceland riding a golden dragon over the sea in the fire. "Your beloved is playing right into my hands." A twisted smile formed on his face. "And you will be unable to save him as you watch him die."

Denmark could only let out another scream of agony as his torment continued, and pray to whatever God was out there that Anya would be protected.

**WOW, I'M SO MEAN! But, hey, it'll give you something to think about while I'm gone~. And why does Rethos say "him"...? Yeah, not telling you! You'll just have to stay tuned~! **

**Review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**HAHA, I LIED! _This_ is the last chapter before I leave for the trip. I leave like literally right after I get out from school, so I won't have time to upload at _all._ DX I'm really sorry! Please don't kill me! **

**Also, we finally find out the question I asked you last chapter as to why Rethos said "him"...**

**Enjoy! **

As they flew over the ocean, the still-flaming wreckage of the trade ship came into their sights. Anya's jaw tightened, but she told Aiman, "Fly lower."

He complied, and Anya leapt off into the water. As soon as she hit, her legs melded together perfectly and became a silver-green tail. The armor on her legs wrapped around the tail to accommodate the change, and arm fins poked out from her forearms. Webbing grew between her fingers as well.

She paid the transformation no mind, however, and swam into the half-submerged vessel. Inside, she dodged floating dead bodies, and she suppressed shudders from the still eeriness of it all.

As she swam into the captain's cabin, a large stone sitting on the desk caught her attention. Putting a hand on Tusmørke, she approached it cautiously. The stone pulsated and then caught fire. Anya stopped up short and yelped in surprise. In the flames, she could see a shadow figure standing over a badly-burned, but still alive, Denmark.

"Matthias," she breathed.

"So you are the Valgt," the shadow figure rasped. "I am Rethos. You seem oddly feminine for a man. But I suppose that if that is Denmark's preference, then I shall not question it."

_'Man? Who is he-?'_ Then it dawned on her, and her anger rose again. "Who're you calling a man? I'm a _WOMAN_, you imbecile!"

Rethos straightened, and Denmark let out a small snicker, proving he was still conscious. "What? But I thought the Valgt-"

"Would be male, I know, you sexist pig," Anya finished irritably. "Now, you have a few people that are very important to me. Give them back, and I'll consider making your death less painful." Venom dripped from every word she spoke.

A snake-like laugh filled her ears, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. "So you plan to kill me?"

"I don't _plan_ to, I _intend_ to," she growled.

Rethos chuckled again. "Very well, then. Fly to the west; you will know my castle as soon as you see it. I look forward to our meeting."

"As do I," she said severely. She cast a glance at Denmark, and he gave her once last small grin before the flame extinguished.

A tear floated out and joined the rest of the saltwater. Anya's fist clenched and the water around her began to boil. Denmark had _grinned_ at her in this midst of his torture. He was an idiot, but he was _her_ idiot.

Letting out a blood-curdling scream, the ship around her began to shake violently, and then exploded into oblivion. Aiman and Iceland just barely managed to avoid it in time. Even from the air, they could hear Anya's seething bellows of rage. The sea around them ceased to churn, and Iceland looked at the water sadly.

He didn't have to be a genius to know that his sister was sobbing through her rage.

***Chosen***

As soon as the flame on the Valgt's side died, Rethos gasped and fell to the floor, breathing heavily.

"What's the matter, Rethos?" Denmark taunted. "Still too weak to fight a little water?"

"Yes," Rethos rasped. Getting up, he grabbed Denmark's jaw and forced it open. "But only because I do not have a strong body. Yours will be my new one."

He drew near to Denmark's face, and his essence began to meld with Rethos's. He struggled as much as he could to keep the spirit at bay, but it was not enough.

"Nooo!"

Denmark's chains rattled as he thrashed around, trying to release himself, but it was to no avail.

He slumped over, perfectly still, then he strained against them one last time, and the chains snapped.

Rethos stood in his new body and looked in a mirror. He sighed at his reflection. "Always the eyes," he muttered. "My eyes are always the same."

Indeed, though the body was Denmark's, the molten-lava eyes were completely Rethos. He tried to look through Denmark's memories, but the nation stubbornly refused to grant him access. _'You will not use my memories against Anya! Go to hell, you-'_

"Be quiet." And with that, Rethos silenced Denmark's voice. "So troublesome. This one is strong-willed to protect his beloved."

He stared into the flame and saw the Valgt mount up onto a dragon and begin to fly west. "Although, I can see _why_ he protects her. She is quite lovely." A twisted smile upturned his lips. "I will need a queen, and what better queen than the woman I defeat?"

***Chosen***

Anya seethed the entire trip to Rethos's island. Iceland did his best to lighten the mood, but she wasn't to be consoled.

"Sister," he pleaded. "Please smile."

"I'll smile when our family is freed and Rethos is dead." Her tone was stony, and it silenced him.

A few hours before sunset, Aiman spoke up. "There it is. We've arrived."

The island on which Rethos had placed his castle was barren and covered in dark volcanic ash. The castle itself was set above an active volcano, and loomed menacingly in front of them.

Anya narrowed her eyes. "Land on the beach," she commanded. "We'll rest for the night."

Aiman did as she asked, and landed on the black sand. Anya slipped off and looked to the castle with a look of pure hatred. Iceland went over and slipped his hand into hers. "We'll rescue them, Sister. I promise."

She turned her eyes down and softened her gaze, but she did not smile. "We will, Emil. Most definitely."

***Chosen***

That night, Anya's dreams were plagued with nightmares of what her brothers could be going through. Around midnight, she gave up on sleep and walked to the water's edge. Holding out her hand, she summoned a bit of water and held it in her hands. Anya formed the figure of a man with a wild mane of hair and a huge battle axe.

A tear slipped down her face, and she did nothing to stop it. "Matthias," she whispered. "I promise I'll rescue you. If I have to, I'll die to set you and the others free."

_Tusmørke_ pulsed comfortingly at her side. She picked up _Spejl_ and looked into the blade, focusing on the landscape behind her.

Much to her surprise, she saw an image of a sunny meadow of flowers on the surface. The image zoomed in, and she could see men, women, and children going about their daily chores in a village similar to the one in Denmark. They all looked happy and content.

But then, a shadow appeared over the peaceful view. The vegetation all withered and died, and the earth began to quake. The oceans around the island rose and broiled, writhing as if in pain. A volcano appeared and spewed lava from the earth's core. It flowed swiftly down into the village, where it destroyed _everything_. The people never saw it coming, and whole families simply held on to each other as the lava encompassed them.

As the lava hardened, it became the barren land that was behind her in reality with the volcano spewing new lava constantly. Rethos's castle appeared on its edge, and she could see the shadow standing on a balcony, Rosaria the fire harpy next to him. Then the scene ended, and the blade became silver once more.

Anya's grip on the handle became tighter. This island used to be home to a whole village, and Rethos had murdered every last member. If she didn't have a reason to fight him, she had one now. She hated all kinds of murder, but the murder of children…that was inexcusable.

She knelt down and put _Tusmørke_ in the ground. Bowing her head, she said a small prayer for everyone that had died because of Rethos, and vowed that he would become well-acquainted with her blade.

**Aww, man. Now that she knows Rethos has killed _children_ along with kidnapping her family and her beloved...Anya's gonna be out for blood now. FEAR THE POWER OF THE VALGT! **

**Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'M BACK! I got back WAY earlier than I thought I would, so I figured I'd celebrate with another chapter update. **

**And FusososoLaugh, YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY MADE MY WEEK! I'm so pleased that you like this story, and you made me feel so glad that I created a well-liked character. Thanks for your reviews! **

The sun rose the next morning and glinted off Anya's armor and mail. She glared at the castle in the distance, vowing to take it down brick by brick once she took down Rethos. She gently woke her brother. "Emil, it's time."

He opened his violet eyes and stretched. Standing up, Iceland put a hand on one of his daggers. "Let's go get Rethos."

Aiman woke and shook himself free of sleep. "This is as far as I can take you," he stated. "Since I am a fire creature, Rethos could easily overpower my mind and turn me against you."

"Thank you, Aiman," Anya said soberly. She patted his head. "You have helped me a great deal, and I thank you for that."

"Be safe, Anya the Valgt." And with those parting words, he leapt into the air and flew off.

Anya, Iceland, and Fenris watched him until the dragon was gone, and then turned in the direction of Rethos. With a grim and determined step, Anya began the long trek up to the volcano.

As they traveled, Iceland did his best not to fall and to keep up with his sister's long-legged stride, but quite a few times he did stumble. Anya, however, made sure he was alright each time he fell, and when she was certain he wasn't hurt, they continued to trek.

The castle loomed over them threateningly, and the lava made the air grow hotter and hotter, mimicking the growing fury inside Anya. The doors opened as they approached, and Anya strode right in, carefully taking note of the crumbling floor below her feet and watching her step. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sense the others as best she could, listening and sniffing for anything, but all she got was nothing, until…

A faint heartbeat caught her sensitive ear, and she turned to it. As she did, her eyes widened, and her breath hitched.

Sweden, Finland, and Norway were completely encased in stone, each one, including Sweden, wearing a look of terror on their faces.

Anya began to swear vehemently in Finnish. _'How dare he freeze my family?!'_ Her fury grew once again, and she itched to wrap her hands around the spirit's neck. Reaching out a hand, she latched onto Norway's forehead, and squeezed. The rock under her hand cracked and fell away, revealing one of Norway's eyes. It blinked and looked at her, and seemed to scream, 'Keep going!'

Anya didn't hesitate. She began to rip away more of the stone until his entire head was freed. Norway gasped and breathed heavily. "You have no idea how thankful I am to have you as a sister."

Her lips quirked upward slightly, but she kept herself from smiling too wide just yet. Brutally, she removed the rock from his body, and when she finished, Iceland ran to his brother and embraced him tightly. Not a word was said between the two, and Anya did not intervene.

Using the hilt of Tusmørke, she struck Sweden's forehead and the stone crumbled away from him instantly. She was about to give Finland the same treatment, but he stopped her.

"D'n't. I'll t'ke c're of it."

Anya stood back and allowed him to approach Finland. He gently cupped Finland's stone cheek, and Anya caught a whispered, "_Jäg alsker dig_." Then he raised his hand and Sweden cracked open his love's stony prison with one mighty blow.

Finland gasped for air, and almost collapsed to the ground. Before he fell, however, Sweden swiftly caught him and steadied him on his feet. "Are ya 'lright?"

"Y-Yes," Finland stammered. His heart began to beat erratically in his chest, and a blush spread across his cheeks. Anya, sensing a moment coming up, moved over to check on Norway, leaving the two to privacy.

The smaller male shifted slightly. "Um, Sve, you can…let me go now."

Sweden lessened his grip on the Finnish nation, and from behind the giant, Finland could see Anya glaring daggers at him. 'What are you doing?' she mouthed angrily. 'Tell him!'

Gathering up his courage, Finland looked up to meet Sweden's gaze. "Sve, I-"

Whatever he was about to say was silenced by Sweden's finger on his lips. "_Jäg_ _alsker dig_," he stated simply.

Finland's brow furrowed. "Sve, I don't speak your tongue. What are you-"

Sweden bent down and kissed Finland's forehead, then both his temples, then both his cheeks, repeating "_Jäg alsker dig_" after each kiss.

Finland reddened significantly. "Sve…"

He pulled back and looked Finland directly in the eyes. "_Rakastan sinua_," he said shakily in Finnish. "I l've ya, F'nland."

Finally, he pieced everything together, and his heart soared. "And I love you, Sweden."

Rising up on his toes, he planted a chaste yet powerful kiss to Sweden's lips. The larger country responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Finland's waist, holding him tightly. Every pent-up passionate emotion they had was poured into the kiss. Everything was still, and their circumstances were forgotten. They were both content to stay like that for eternity, but fate had other plans.

Footsteps echoed across the room, and they all looked up. As she did, Anya's heart became lead and the blood in her veins froze. Standing there in obsidian armor, axe strapped to his back, Denmark leered at them all.

But she knew it wasn't Denmark. For one, his scent was completely different; he reeked of ash, fire, and destruction. For another, his eyes, instead of a joyful ocean blue, were pure molten lava, and looked upon them with sadistic glee.

"What have you done to Matthias?!" she demanded angrily. Tears threatened to fall, but she would not let them.

Rethos threw his head back and laughed. It was most definitely not Denmark's; the sound was pure evil. "I lacked a strong body," he said casually. His voice was much darker than Denmark's, and it sent shivers of repulsion down her spine. "Denmark's was my best option. I rather like it, don't you?"

From the back of his overtaken mind, Denmark watched in horror as Anya stared at him with fear in her eyes. In the small amount of time he had known her, he would never have thought that he would see that look in her eyes. Vainly, he tried to free himself from the web that Rethos was keeping him in, but the bonds held strong.

Anya let out a feral growl. "You've stolen my family, killed an entire _island_, and now you've taken Matthias's _body_?!" The rocks around them began to crack from her anger. She bared her teeth. "You, my friend, have broken my last ounce of patience with you. You've made me very angry…"

Anya drew Tusmørke, and in the speed of an eye blink, was right in front of him and shoved a foot into his chest. Rethos flew backwards and hit the farthest wall from them.

"…and you will not like me when I'm angry."

She chanced a glance back at her brothers, and saw their lack of armor. Tusmørke knew what she wanted, and pulsed yet again. Armor clinked into existence on them, and with a jerk of her head, they were given weapons as well. Sweden had a rather large sword, Finland was given a bow and arrow, and Norway wielded a heavy-looking hammer.

Denmark let out a whoop of joy, but Rethos was not impressed. Nonetheless, he knew that a serious battle was about to take place.

A dark chuckle sounded behind her, and Anya whipped her gaze back to Rethos. He was just getting up, holding onto Denmark's axe. "I like your ferocity," he said, a menacing smile on his lips. "And you even gave your family weapons, very good. But how long will they last against my army?"

He stamped the axe on the ground, and hordes of fire harpies appeared, waiting for the call to attack. Anya turned back, eyes wide and terrified for her family.

Norway, however, met her gaze and nodded once. 'We'll be alright,' he mouthed. 'Go!'

At that moment, Rethos let out a roar, and the harpies closed in. Instantaneously, the remaining Nordic countries sprang into action. Sweden and Iceland beheaded harpy heads like they were born to do so, and not once did they stop. Finland's arrows found their targets instantly, and when they did, the harpy would explode into nothing. Norway would take off heads with a single swing of his hammer. Fenris let out a howl that sounded eerily like a battle cry, and ripped off heads with the speed of lightning. All of them did well in the first few moments, but they soon were becoming overrun.

"NOOO!" she shrieked. Whirling around, she charged Rethos and swung at him, slicing open his chest plate as though it were butter. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and then he swung downwards onto her shoulder. The axe bounced harmlessly off the armor. Anya did not stop to gloat, however; she only attacked him with a barrage of blows, accompanied by various obscenities in different Scandinavian languages.

Rethos did not seem affected too much by her viciousness. Instead, he almost casually blocked Tusmørke, walking backwards as he did. Finally, he swung down and managed to crack through her armor and bloody her left shoulder, and then her right. She let out a small grunt of pain, but did not let it show on her face.

He smiled cruelly. "Your family seems to not be holding up very well," he observed, glancing over to where the Nordics were fighting. They were slowly losing strength, while the army seemed to never end. "I could save them, however."

His axe came up again and Anya intercepted it before it could hit her face. She strained to hold it there, and Rethos's eyes showed an insane glint in them. "Become my queen, and I will spare them."

In response, she spit in his face and forced him away from her. "Go to hell," she growled. "Better yet, I'll send you there myself!"

_'Oh, yeah, Anya! Show him who's boss!'_ Denmark cheered.

_'Shut up!'_ Rethos growled at him.

She charged him again, but as soon as Tusmørke met the axe's head, the unthinkable happened.

Tusmørke shattered, and the handle disappeared.

Anya gasped and froze. Denmark's consciousness felt heavy with dread, but immediately he was yelling at her to move out of the way. But it was just long enough for Rethos to smack her with the shaft of the axe and cut a gash down the side of her face. He rammed into her, and she went flying backwards into a pillar.

Her vision swam, but she still managed to see Rethos approaching her quickly, axe at the ready to strike her. Shakily, she stood and quickly back-flipped up on the floor above, some 40 feet in the air. She ran off and hid behind another pillar, breathing heavily. Her shoulders screamed in agony, and she felt the gash on her face. It ran all the way down to her jaw, and was bleeding heavily. Some of it ran into her eye, and blurred her sight.

This was not Matthias, she told herself. This was a totally different person, an evil person that would kill _thousands _if she didn't do something.

Anya drew Spejl and clutched it to her chest. She knew what she had to do, and it was tearing apart her insides. "Please forgive me, Matthias," she whispered tearfully.

Rethos's footsteps became louder as they came into the room. "Valgt? I know you are here. You cannot hide from me." He began to look around each pillar, smiling cruelly. "My offer still stands; become mine and I will spare your family."

Just as he came around to the pillar where she was hiding, she burst out, and without a sound, sank the blade into his heart.

Tears came forth from her eyes as he crumpled to the ground, but it was not over yet. A dark smoke-like substance spilled from Denmark's mouth, and when it all came out, Rethos stared at her with pure loathing in his shadow-form.

"You insolent wench!" he roared. "I offered you the chance to become a _ruler_ of the _world_! And yet you refuse me for a mere _nation_!"

Her anger escalated again, and she spread out her arms, calling to the sea. "Matthias is all I will ever need. I don't anything _but_ him!"

A large jet of water had come through the window and surrounded Rethos. He looked around desperately for a way out. Any fire he used would only douse in the face of all this water; he was powerless.

Slowly, Anya brought her arms together and formed a circle with her hands. The water created a sphere around him, trapping him. She narrowed her eyes at him, and snarled, "I told you that I intended to kill you, and this is me making good on that promise. Good riddance, and rot in hell."

And with that, she squeezed her hands together and the air bubble within the sphere of water disappeared.

The spirit thrashed around wildly, but the water was already suffocating him. Soon, his thrashing stopped, and he faded away.

As soon as Rethos vanished, the castle vanished, and the volcano shrunk into the earth. The other Nordics and Fenris looked around confusedly, all four of them covered in blood. "Did she-?" Finland started to ask, but was interrupted by the sound of an anguished wail.

They looked over and Anya holding Denmark's limp body near to her. Her head was lifted and her mouth was emitting the sorrowed and grief-filled sound.

"MATTHIAS!" she sobbed. "COME BACK! PLEASE!"

Iceland started to walk forward, but Norway stopped him. "Don't. She needs to mourn alone."

Fenris whined, and let out a mournful cry for the loss of his mistress's loved one. He never did appreciate the annoying man, but the one she called Matthias had made her happy. That was all he wanted for his mistress, and now that he was gone, Fenris wasn't sure what was going to happen.

Anya sobbed over Denmark's body, her cries wracking her body. "Come back," she whispered hoarsely. "Come back."

She looked up and called to the sea once more. A water dragon came sailing up, and Anya picked Denmark up and put him on its back. Climbing on herself, she urged it back to the sea. Swiftly, it took off, and Anya continued to cry over the loss of her beloved.

As they approached the ocean, the dragon took a nose dive and splashed into the water. Anya transformed into a mermaid, and her armor melted off with the water dragon. The obsidian armor also faded away, leaving him with nothing.

She ignored that, however, and began to sing in a clear, anguished voice in English.

_What hurts the most, is being so close, and having so much to say, and watching you walk away. Never knowing, what could have been, and not seeing that lovin' you, is what I was tryin' to do. _

She stopped the chorus, and cupped his cold cheek. "Matthias, please...Jeg elsker dig. Rakastan sinua. Jeg elsker deg. Ég elska þig. Ich liebe dich. Ti amo. Ya lyublyu tebya. Je t'aime. Wŏ ài nĭ. Te amo. I love you, Matthias." She held him close and cried again. She wasn't sure where she had picked up all those different languages, but she didn't care. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that when I could."

_Ba_-bump. _Ba-_bump. _Ba-_bump.

She inhaled slightly and drew away. His eyes had not opened, but when she looked to his chest, she began to smile like a mad-woman.

The stab wound through his heart was gone.

Denmark shifted slightly in her grasp, and she rocketed towards the surface. Though she could breathe underwater, he could not. She would not risk losing him again.

When they broke the surface, Denmark gasped for air and opened his eyes. "Anya?" he asked. His eyes widened when he saw the gashes on her face and shoulders. "What happened?" He paled. "Did I…?"

Quickly, she healed the gashes and kissed him fervently. When she drew back, she told him expressively, "Don't you _ever_ die on me again. Do you understand? I love you too much."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Anya's eyes widened and she covered her mouth. _'I can't believe I just said that when he was conscious!'_

Denmark, however, looked stunned. "You…love me?"

Even without a response from Anya, he embraced her and clutched her tightly. "I was worried there for a while," he chuckled softly. "I was afraid that you didn't love me like I loved you."

A light blush spread across her cheeks. "Are you serious?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Ever since I met you, actually; I just couldn't put a name to the thing I felt for you." A blush of his own was dusted across his face and he looked to the side, obviously embarrassed. "So…can you summon another one of those dragon rides?"

She suddenly realized a problem and backed away from Denmark, sinking into the water to her chin. "I-I can't," she stammered. "I don't have any clothes on."

His face upturned in a slow smile. "Really? Mind if I take a peek?"

He started to swim closer, but she lifted her tail out of the water and smacked him across the face. Anya's face was cherry-red, and she stammered out, "D-Don't come any closer!"

"What's the matter?" he teased, grinning with his teeth. "Worried you might see something you like?"

Blushing redder, she slapped him across the face. "Pervert," she muttered, but the insult was laced with endearment.

**Admit it: you thought I was going to kill Denmark off. Puh-LEASE! AS IF! Real life is depressing enough; I assure you that my stories will ALWAYS have happy endings! **

**Also, I'm sorry, but I just didn't see how Mr. Puffin would fit into the fight scene. Puffins are pretty small, so I wasn't sure if they could actually take off a harpy's head. Tell me if they somehow could.**

**REVIEW! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hehe, I'm still smiling from FusososoLaugh's review. And sorry, Fusoso, but Anya will not be taking down her kick-ass-ness down. That's just not how she rolls. ;3 **

**I think this chapter has to be one of my favorites. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! ;{3**

By the time Anya had finally convinced Denmark to cover himself, she felt as though someone had lit a match underneath her skin. To make him somewhat presentable, she had to dive to the bottom of the sea and gather some reasonably-large pieces of kelp for him to wrap around himself. It was bad enough that she had to look up to see where she was going on her journey back to the surface with Denmark practically in her line of vision. What made it worse was that he did little to keep modest.

"_Please_ try to cover yourself," she said irritably when she gave him the kelp.

He winked suggestively, but did not say anything more. He knew full-well that she'd get him back some way or another, but seeing her tomato-red blush was worth it.

Denmark finished wrapping the kelp around his waist and hips, and then turned back to Anya. She was facing away from him, rubbing her eyes mournfully. "I think I've been scarred for life," she muttered.

"Aww, it can't be _that_ bad," he teased. Playfully, he swam over and hugged her to his chest. She squirmed slightly, but did not move away.

His eyes caught hold of her tail and he released her. Taking a deep breath, he submerged and swam down next to it to study it further.

It truly was a beautiful thing to see. Scales flashed green and silver in the light, and where her torso met her tail at her waist, skin smoothly gave way to scales. Entranced by it, Denmark planted a small kiss on her waist, and she instinctively jerked in surprise.

The need for air brought him up to the surface, and once he had caught his breath, he kissed Anya thoroughly, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like a sweet he couldn't quite name, and something bitterly-sweet that gave him a rush just tasting it. He had not yet tasted her, and it gave him a sense of euphoria as he did. She stiffened slightly, then responded hesitantly, her tongue playing with his gingerly. She seemed inexperienced, but he was more than willing to teach her.

When he pulled away, she was blushing again. "Wha-What was that for?" she stuttered.

He winked again. "I can't help it; you're just too adorable."

"Anya!"

Finland's voice accompanied by a loud flapping of wings caught their attention and they looked up. Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland were on Aiman's back, looking for them. To let them know where they were, Anya sent up a large column of water and yelled, "Over here!"

The dragon flew low until he landed in the water and floated there. Anya gently nudged Denmark closer. "Go ahead. I can't really show myself right now."

Denmark, instead, took her hand and swam closer to their ride. "It's okay," he told her. "I'm sure they could use a cloak to cover you."

"Matthias!" she strained, but it was no use. He had already dragged her over and yelled up to them, "D'ya have a cloak she can use? Her armor melted away!"

Blushing bright red, she ducked under water, praying that she wouldn't be forced onto Aiman without any clothes on.

Her hopes were in vain as Denmark grabbed her under her shoulders and hoisted her up. With an "EEP!" she hastily covered her chest as best she could. Sweden, having pity on her, took off his cloak and gave it to her for her to cover up. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Miss Anya?" Aiman's loud voice boomed in her ear. "Would you like to go home?"

Turning away from the five, she told him, "Take off."

***Chosen***

By the time they arrived in Denmark, Aiman had been spotted a mile off. The village people gazed at him, awe on their faces. Not wanting to be seen completely naked, Anya directed Aiman back to the clearing where the house was. Her tail had dried off long ago, so now all she wanted was to find some clothes for her and Denmark to wear.

As soon as Aiman landed, Anya took off into the house, desperate to find some material in her room. But when she opened the door, she was met with a surprise.

Her original purple and black outfit was lying on her bed, neatly folded. A note in Norwegian lay on the top. **'Thank you for rescuing Master Norway and the others. We are forever grateful to you.'** There was no signature.

Confused, she put on her clothes (even her bikini was there), went to Norway's room, and knocked. "Lukas?"

"Come in."

She opened the door and walked in, carrying the note. "I found this on top of my clothes. I can read it just fine, but who's it from?"

Norway scanned the note, and the tiniest bit of a smile appeared. "It's from my faeries. They no doubt were worried about me, and when they heard about you going to rescue me, I imagine that they wanted to repay you somehow."

Anya smiled as well. "When you get a chance, please tell them that I said thank you."

"It's not a problem."

"Hey, you two!" Denmark, now clothed, poked his head into Norway's room. "We gotta get going; we've got some celebrating to do!"

Mentally, Anya winced at the mention of a party, but still hurried down and into the forest.

Once at the village, an enormous celebration was being thrown, and Anya was given a hero's welcome. She oversaw each of the festivities, and ate until she thought she would bust. A couple of times, she participated in a few dances and even sang for the village once or twice.

Sometime late at night, Anya's shoulder was tapped. Turning around, she was met with the smiling face of her mother. "Crystal!" she cried happily.

The two hugged tightly. "I knew you'd come back," her mother told her.

Anya looked down at her make-shift dress of a ship's sail. "You couldn't find any real clothes, could you?"

She shrugged. "No, not really. It was my best option."

Denmark came over. "Anya, who's this?"

"Matthias, this is my m-best friend, Crystal," she introduced, covering up her blunder. "She's the mer I was telling you about."

The blonde nation grinned and kissed Crystal's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Crystal."

Her mother blushed slightly, and Denmark moved over to one of his human drinking companions. Once he was out of hearing range, Crystal whispered to her, "I need to speak with you. Privately."

Surprised at her mother's serious tone, Anya signaled to let Norway know she would only be a minute and followed her mother to the beach.

Crystal discarded her dress and slid into the water, back into familiar territory. She was quiet for a moment, looking to the moon, and then spoke. "You are not from this time, are you?"

Anya froze. Had she let something slip? "What makes you say that?"

"Everything about you," Crystal replied. "Your speech, your name, everything. And that all half-bloods were killed a thousand years ago, and yet, here you are." She turned her gaze to Anya. "Your name, in Mer, means 'Savior'. Only the Valgt would be allowed such a name. So that means you are either from the past or the future. Which is it?"

She shifted, and then sighed. There was no use to try to hide the truth now. "The future," she confessed. "I believe God sent me back here to save everyone since there were no other half-bloods in this time period."

Crystal didn't speak for a moment, and then whispered, "Are you my daughter?"

Overcome with emotion, Anya could only nod yes, and Crystal started to cry. "These are tears of joy," she explained weepily. "I knew I had a connection with you; I just couldn't tell what it was."

Both women wept and embraced tightly. "Mother," Anya whispered softly. "You wouldn't believe how much I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."

Her mother could only hold her tightly, crying. "Who is your father?" she asked.

Anya shook her head. "Trust me; you'll know."

And with that, Anya and her mother parted ways for the night.

***Chosen***

The weeks passed, and Anya was the happiest she had felt in years. Denmark could now read and write with ease, thanks to her tutoring. Not only that, but he was incredibly sweet, and would surprise her with little gifts of knick-knacks from the village coupled with a passionate kiss. He even invited to go hunting with him, which she agreed to. Her naturally-silent gait proved to an asset, as she would get ridiculously close to her prey before she'd let loose an arrow. That night, her and her family ate well.

Not only that, but she took up surfing again. She found that with a little practice, she could control when her tail could come out, and began to surf every day with Denmark watching. One day, when she she'd come back in from surfing, Denmark had stroked her hair and said, "Babe, you look so beautiful when you're surfing, I can hardly believe it."

Naturally, she had blushed and leaned up to kiss him.

But she could tell that something was about to happen, and was about to happen soon.

On the day before Christmas Eve, Anya was surfing when her board was knocked over. She was about to swim to the surface when she was surrounded by white light. Looking around, she could see a storm in the light, heading towards the bay.

It took her a moment, but she realized that the storm looked exactly like the one that had brought her to this time period. And at the speed it was going, it would most likely arrive…

_'Tomorrow,'_ she thought. _'It'll be here tomorrow. I have to go back.'_

As the light dissipated, she swam to the surface with a heavy heart. '_I don't belong to this time. I can't stay, no matter how much I want to.'_

She held back her tears as she paddled back to shore, where Denmark was waiting. Once she made it back to land, she went up to him, and using his collar, she pulled him into a kiss. He was stunned for a moment, but kissed back.

"How often have I told you I loved you?" she murmured against his lips.

"Not too often."

She kissed him again and said, "Then I love you a thousand times over."

He smiled softly. "And I love you two thousand times over."

***Chosen***

That night, she kicked Finland out of the kitchen and set to work making everyone's favorite dish. For Sweden, she made (what else?) Swedish meatballs, or köttbuller, and for Finland, she made palvikinkku, a smoked ham. Norway was somewhat difficult, seeing as how he was so introverted about his favorites, but she took a guess and made smoked salmon for him. For Iceland, she made hangikjöt, or smoked lamb, and for Denmark, she took special care in making the baked cod, or torsk.

By the time everyone sat down to dinner, it was late at night, but all was forgiven when the food was tasted. Praises were sung for her cooking, and Anya smiled constantly throughout the meal, but for her, it was laced with a note of sadness. She had no idea how long she had been gone in her time, but all she cared about was about whether or not her family would be there when she got back. If they weren't, well, she'd just have to find them.

After dinner, she made sure that she gave every one of them a long hug before they went off to bed. They didn't think anything of it, and went off to their rooms to sleep. Luckily, she caught Denmark just as he was about to enter his room. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face her.

When he was about to ask her what she needed, she fastened her lips to his, and gave him a heated, needy kiss. Winding her arms around his neck, she threaded her fingers into his hair, and held on tightly. He did the same, and kissed back with the same amount of fervor. She had to make sure that he would never forget her for the next 680 years. She even allowed him to grope her behind, even though she gave a squeak of surprise when he did.

When they finally broke away, Denmark was gasping for breath. "Wow, Anya," he panted. "What did I do to deserve that? I want to be sure to do it again if this is my reward."

She smiled a little sadly. "Do I need a reason to be affectionate?"

He shook his head, eyes half-lidded with sleep. "I suppose not. Good night, my darling."

The 'darling' almost made her break into tears right then and there, but she held her smile. "Good night, Matthias."

He gave her one last kiss, and closed his door. She walked down to her room and pulled out a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. She sniffled slightly, but cleared her eyes and nose. If she was going to be leaving, then she would have to do some explaining.

It was past midnight by the time she finished writing her letter. She tied a ribbon around it and pulled on her wetsuit. The storm was almost there, she could tell. With a heavy heart, she walked down the steps quickly and left her letter on the table. As she walked out of the house, she turned one last time and whispered, "Good-bye, everyone."

Anya then began to run to the beach with her surfboard; this was her last chance to go home and she couldn't miss it. Reaching the cliff over the beach, she could see the storm coming in quickly, and she hurried down. But just before Anya got into the water, she wrote a message for Denmark in the sand. Satisfied, she ran into the water and paddled out.

The waves tossed her around just as they had the first time around, but Anya was prepared for it. Another tornado formed and she was lifted into the air. Her head hit her board again, and she passed out, a stray tear on her face.

***Chosen***

The next morning, Denmark stretched and got up, searching for clothes in his trunk. He grinned as he found the sack of peppermint that he had placed in there. Anya loved it when she smelled peppermint on his clothes, so he made sure to put fresh leaves in his trunk as much as possible. He dressed, still slightly aslep. But as he woke up more, he realized something wasn't right. For one, the house felt colder, like something was missing.

Or some-_one_.

He went down the stairs and to his surprise, a piece of parchment with a red and white ribbon wrapped around it was set on the table. Frowning, he picked it up, opened it, and began to read.

**'Matthias, if you're reading this and the others aren't with you, stop right now and go get them. They need to hear this, too.' **

He blinked, and then a smile spread over his face. This was definitely Anya's writing; even though she wasn't there in person, it was as though she was speaking to him in person.

Putting down the note, he went and woke everyone. There were quite a few pillows thrown at him, but when he told them it concerned Anya, they more or less got out of bed without too much fuss.

Once they were gathered at the table, Denmark began to read aloud.

**'Everyone, you will never know how much this is hurting me to write this letter. But before we get onto why I'm in pain, I need to let you know that I have been lying to you.'**

Everyone froze, and Denmark's grip on the paper tightened, but he still continued to read.

**'I am not from this time, and I never will be. I live in the 21****rst**** Century in a country that does not exist yet and will not exist until much later in history. I was brought back to this time to defeat Rethos because all the other half-bloods like me are dead. I don't understand it myself, but now that Rethos is dead, my purpose here is fulfilled, and I must return home.**

** 'But, I promise you all that this is NOT good-bye forever. We will meet again, but I will not recognize you when we do meet; please be patient. Though I cannot give away everything, I will say this. Matthias, I want you to remember this EXACTLY: December 2****nd****, 2012, Bodega Bay, California, the Albacore Market. Then at 11 o'clock that night, I want you to go to 247 Pearl Drive, Apartment 16B. I know this all sounds strange, but please remember all this. Oh, and bring the ingredients for smoked eel, chicken soup, and a shrimp cocktail. I'm not sure if you know what that is yet, but you will, trust me.'**

"Those are rather specific instructions," Norway mused. "And what exactly is an apartment?"

Denmark could not do anything; instead, he continued to read.

**'Do not tell anyone outside your family besides Crystal about this. She is my mother; she has a right to know. I may have messed up history enough; I don't want to wreck it further. Tell the villagers anything about my disappearance; tell them anything but the truth. Get as creative as you like, but make it believable. I do not care what you say. **

** 'By the time you finish reading this, I may or may not be gone. You may come after me at the beach, but I do not know if I'll be there.**

** 'I love you all beyond words, and especially you, Matthias. You are, and always will be, my one and only. **

** 'Until we met again, Anya.'**

As soon as he put the parchment down, Denmark ran out the door past a crying Finland and Iceland, a stoic Sweden, and a sorrowful Norway to the beach. He ran faster than he had ever before and yet to him it was never fast enough. He stumbled down the path and almost broke his leg, but he still continued to the beach.

There was nothing. Anya was not there. He sank to his knees in despair, and began to sob. He had not cried in centuries, so it was as though a dam had opened up from inside him and spilled forth all the tears locked inside him for so long.

"I'll wait for you," he whispered between sobs. "No matter what, I'll wait for you."

Writing in the sand caught his eye and he walked over to it. A little _Dannebrog_ was next to it, obviously stitched by Anya. But what really calmed him was her message.

**'We will meet again.'**

***Chosen***

Anya woke just as she hit the water. Coming up, she spat out the water that went down the wrong pipe and looked around her. She could plainly see the cliffs of Bodega Bay, and a small formed on her face.

She heard a loud whooping coming from the shore and as she looked over, her heart stopped.

Denmark was standing on the shore, waving excitedly at her.

Unable to wait a moment longer, she climbed on her board and surfed all the way back to the land. Denmark came running into the water to meet her, and she leapt off her board into his arms. They fell to the ground, Denmark on bottom and Anya on top. She burst into tears and started peppering his face with kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she told him over and over, both in Danish and English.

He finally held her still and kissed her deeply. "You have nothing to apologize for," he told her seriously.

"But I left you alone for so many years!" she protested.

Denmark put a finger to her lips. "Hey, we can make up for it," he chuckled. "I did a little research after you left. Did you know that since you've fallen in love with me, you'll now live for as long as I do instead of a mer's lifetime of 5,000 years?"

Anya let out a cry of joy and kissed him again. "You mean it?! I'll live with you forever?!"

"For as long as I live, yes," he confirmed, laughing at her eagerness. He then very gently cupped her face and said, "Jeg elsker dig, Anya."

"Jeg elsker også dig, Matthias. *I love you, too, Matthias.*"

And with that, she kissed him with every ounce of passion she had.

**AWWWWW~! You can't tell me that wasn't adorable! **

**I was very tempted to end the chapter at Anya's message in the sand, but I decided against it. There's going to be one more chapter and an epilogue, then I MIGHT have a sequel to this. I'm working on it now, so I truly have no idea if I'll even finish it at all. I have that strange tendency to start stories, then not finish some of them. If all goes well, then I'll finish the sequel and put it up. **

**Review! And become as awesome as Prussia! (FusososoLaugh already has~!) *brick flies from Prussia* *author grabs brick and throws it back* Prussia: X_X **


	14. Chapter 14

**One more chapter, dear people, until I post the epilogue! And yes, there is a random character that appears here, but I just couldn't figure out any other way to make things flow nicely (to me, at least.) **

**And for my reviewers that say Anya is the definition of Mary Sue, go back and read through 'Chosen' again. I think I made it clear that she fears broken bones, being the center of attention, and heights. (Although, I did make her overcome those fears. But hey, don't we all have to overcome our fears at some point?)**

Anya and Denmark drove back to her apartment so she could get a change of clothes on. On the way over, she learned that it was Christmas Eve and that the others had rented a house for the season. "We're having a little get-together before Finland has to take off around the world," Denmark explained. "Would you like to come?"

She gave him an 'are-you-seriously-asking-me-that?' look, and he laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I know; stupid question."

They had arrived back at her apartment and Anya hoped to sneak in quietly, but her land-lord Angus Macmaster caught sight of her and stomped over to her angrily. Before, she had been terrified of the bulky blonde man, but now she was simply annoyed with him.

"Miss Marchese, where have you been?" he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Personal business."

"And just what sort of personal business?"

_'So now he gets nosy?'_ She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just that; personal. Now stay out of it."

Angus's eyes bulged with anger. "Don't speak to me like that, missy!"

"Then stay out of my business," she growled

He raised his hand to strike her, and that's when Denmark stepped in. He grabbed the hand and held it in place. To Anya, he asked severely in Danish, "Does he typically try to hurt you?"

"He's never managed to get me," she replied, her gaze never leaving Angus.

"Unhand me, you vagrant!" he demanded. "Who are you to meddle in this business?"

Denmark narrowed his eyes and switched to English. "When you try to hit my girlfriend, it's my business. I should have you arrested for attempted assault."

Angus paled, but then regained his composure. "Well-"

Denmark shook his head and turned to Anya. "You seriously put up with this guy?" He said it in English, so she knew he was trying to rile him up a bit. She nodded once and he seemed to make up his mind. "You should probably move to Denmark," he stated simply. "I'd make sure you wouldn't have to be stuck with a jerk like this for a land-lord."

That set Angus off. He swung a punch at Denmark, but he whirled around and caught the fist just as it was about to connect with his jaw. Angus looked stunned, and Anya huffed. "Y'know, I just might do that. I'll see if I can graduate early, and then I'll apply to a college in Denmark."

Grinning, Denmark released Angus's fist and kissed her lightly. The land-lord disappeared quickly, now understanding what a dangerous man Anya's boyfriend was. "I have no doubt you'll be able to do that."

He slipped her key into her hand and escorted her up to her apartment. "I look the liberty of cleaning up here," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't want you coming home to a mess."

Anya smiled. "You're sweet," she told him. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Exist," was the answer. He kissed her deeply, and pushed her against the wall, arms on either side of her head.

She broke away and smiled at him teasingly. "Sorry, but didn't I say I wouldn't sleep with you unless I married you?"

He sighed, but respected her decision. Pulling away, he let her go to her room to change. As she did, he fingered the box in his pocket nervously.

***Chosen***

Anya could just barely hold in her excitement to see her family again on the car ride over. Denmark noticed and let out a laugh at her fidgeting. "Relax! We'll be there in a few moments!"

Sure enough, they pulled into a comfortable-looking one-story house with a generously-sized side yard and a beautiful garden out front. Denmark pulled into the long driveway, and stopped just in front of the garage. "Wait here," he said. He started looking more and more like a kid on Christmas Day as he went to the front door and went inside.

About three seconds later, Iceland burst out of the house. Swiftly, Anya got out of the car just in time for Iceland to practically bull-doze her over with a hug. He held onto her tightly and started quietly cry. "I missed you so much, sister. Why did you have to be born so much later in history?"

Anya hugged back, glad to see her brother again. "I missed you, too, Emil. But I'm here now, aren't I?"

When he let her go, she smiled mischievously. "Now, since I didn't know you a couple weeks ago, I'll have to do this now."

She put a hand on top of his head and brought it straight across to the top of her throat. "You've _grown_, Emil! Last time I saw you, you were just barely to my elbow!"

He turned bright pink at her measurement. "B-Be quiet," he stuttered. "Please don't do that."

She winked at him teasingly. "I'm your older sister, Emil. It's in my job description to pull stuff like this."

"So you're just going to leave the rest of us hanging?"

The cheery voice brought her back to earth. Grinning like mad, she trotted over to Finland and hugged him tightly, and then hugged Sweden just as tightly. "I missed you both so much!" she told them.

"Papa? Mama?"

A much-younger voice caught her attention, and she turned to the boy. He was small, smaller than what Iceland had been at his age, and blond with blue eyes. And…were those caterpillars or eyebrows over his eyes?

"Hello there," she greeted politely. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

The boy looked thrilled at being spoken to like an adult. "I'm Sealand!" he exclaimed, then his face looked panicked. "I-I mean-"

"It's okay, Peter," Finland said comfortingly. "She knows about us."

Sealand's face relaxed, and then he jumped up and hugged her. "Are you another country?! If you are, than you can call me your teacher-"

She laughed lightly, interrupting him. "I'm afraid I'm not a country, dear. I'm actually a mer half-blood. But I can actually live as long as a country."

"A mer?" Sealand asked confusedly. "Is that like a mermaid?"

Affectionately, Anya ruffled his hair. "It's exactly like that. We just prefer being called mer."

"Then if I dumped water on you, you'd turn into a mer?"

She grinned. "It'd have to be salt water." She turned to Finland. "Where did you get him?"

He smiled a little sadly. "He used to be Britain's, but when he stopped taking care of Peter, Peter had to put himself on EBay to see if someone would adopt him. I was searching around, and I came across him. He was just so cute…we adopted him almost immediately since Sve and I obviously can't have our own children."

"Awww!" She gave Sealand one last hug, hardly being able to resist him. When she pulled away, she got up, she found Norway in the kitchen and hugged him tightly. He stiffened slightly, but hugged back awkwardly.

"It is great to see you again, Anya. Perhaps now that idiot Dane will stop whining for you to come back."

She chuckled and released him, much to his great relief. "So he was _whining_ for me?"

"You bet." Denmark's arms wound around her and he planted a kiss on her cheek. "I missed you too much for my own good."

Sealand poked his head into the kitchen. "How long has it been since Uncle Matthias saw you?"

"680 years," was Denmark's reply.

Sealand's eyes resembled bowling balls. "680 _years_?! How old are you, Miss?"

Anya smiled. "18, and you can call me Anya."

The poor micro nation's eyes couldn't get any bigger. "B-But-"

Finland knelt down next to the boy. "She time-traveled, Peter. We're still not quite sure how she did it."

Sealand shook his head. "I'm just not going to ask anymore. My head hurts from trying to figure it out." Then his face brightened. "Can we open presents now?!"

Sweden came in and put a hand on the boy's head. "One pr'sent," he said firmly.

Sealand pouted, and Finland tapped his nose. "Ah-Ah-Ah, none of that. Otherwise, you won't be able to open your other presents tomorrow."

The result was instantaneous. The boy perked up and ran to the living room with the biggest grin on his face. He sat down in front of the Christmas tree and waited patiently for the rest of them to arrive.

Anya chuckled and turned her gaze to Finland. "So, lemme guess; Berwald's Papa and you're Mama?"

Finland looked exasperated. "Please don't say anything about it."

"I wasn't. I was just going to say that motherhood suits you." She made it all the way to the couch before Finland let out an indignant "Hey!"

Denmark snickered as he plopped down next to her. "You really are the best."

Anya snuggled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. "You better not forget it."

He laid his lips on hers, and Iceland made a gagging noise. "C'mon, guys, not in front of the _kid_."

"I don't mind," Sealand argued. "I see Mama and Papa kiss all the time!"

"See, Icey, it's not a problem," Denmark smirked. "The kid's okay with it."

Iceland huffed and sat down next to Anya. "I still think you shouldn't influence him like that."

"Aww, worried that I'll scar him?" Denmark teased. "Or do you just not like me kissing your sister?"

"Try both," Iceland snarled through gritted teeth.

Before it could escalate into a full-blown fight, Anya summoned cold water from the kitchen tap and dumped it on both of them. Both yelped at the freezing water on their scalps while Sealand looked on in amazement.

"You both need to chill out," Anya sighed, well aware of the pun she had put in there. "Matthias, don't provoke Emil. And Emil, you won't need to worry about scarring Peter; I'll make sure Matthias behaves himself."

Denmark leaned back with a huff, while Iceland looked satisfied, a smug smile on his face. Sealand got up, presumably to get his lagging parents and uncle, giggling like crazy at his other uncles' reaction to cold water on their heads. Anya, feeling rather pleased with herself, stretched herself out on the couch, placing her legs over Iceland's lap, and stretching her torso out on Denmark's lap.

His hand brushed up and against her rib, and she let out an involuntary giggle. He raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Iceland. The smaller country met Denmark's gaze, and the two shared a small nod before they acted.

Anya was unceremoniously dumped on the ground, and Denmark pinned her shoulders down while Iceland got her feet. "What are you-" she started to say, but her question was answered when Denmark started mercilessly tickling her ribs and Iceland attacked her feet.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She tried to free herself, but it was to no avail. They simply would not let up, and soon, she had tears running down her face. "P-PLEASE, HAHAHAHA, HAVE MERCY, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Abruptly, her torture ended when Sweden pulled Denmark off her and Norway and Finland managed to get Iceland. She rolled over on her stomach, panting heavily. "I…hate…both of you," she gasped.

Chuckling, Denmark and Iceland clapped a high-five and Sealand came back in, holding something behind his back. "Anya?"

She sat up against the couch and turned her attention to the small boy. "Yes, Peter?"

With a flourish, he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe and held it over her. "Now you have to kiss me!" he giggled.

"Peter!" Finland exclaimed, shocked.

"No, it's okay," Anya smiled. "It's just a kiss on the cheek."

Sealand tapped his cheek expectantly, and Denmark's eye twitched in irritation. Her eyes glittered mischievously, and she leaned over to plant a small smooch on the boy's cheek. But at the very last second, Sealand turned his head and got a kiss on the lips instead.

That did it. Denmark let out a yell of anger. "Why, you little-! You're gonna get it now!"

Sealand was outside in the blink of an eye with Denmark and Iceland hot on his heels, each yelling out curses in their native language. Finland started stuttering out apologies for his son's behavior, while Norway and Sweden looked rather amused at it all.

Anya smiled peacefully. _'It's good to be with my family.'_

***Chosen***

That night, when Iceland and Denmark had cooled off some and Sealand had been herded off to bed, Anya sat in front of the fireplace, staring at the flames.

"The fire is kinda nostalgic, if you ask me."

Denmark's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned to face him. "Why do you say that?"

He took a seat next to her, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and plunked her down in his lap. She didn't protest at the action; rather, she enjoyed the feeling of his warmth radiating against her skin. "Well, I hate to give Rethos any credit, but without him, we would never have met," he explained.

"Yeah, I guess so."

He was quiet for a moment, and then said softly, "I never showed you my scars, did I?"

Her interest was immediately piqued. "Scars? From what?"

"From when Rethos captured me." Denmark slid her off his lap, faced away from her, and lifted up the back of his shirt. Anya let out a soft gasp of shock.

"Matthias," she whispered. Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the deep patches of burned skin that littered his back. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

A small tear escaped her eye. "These are the only scars you have, aren't they?"

"Yeah." He chuckled softly. "Even after 680 years, they still won't go away."

Leaning over, Anya kissed every last one of the scars. He shivered slightly as she kissed the one nearest to the small of his back. "Would you like for me to heal them?" she asked him softly.

Denmark shook his head no as he pulled his shirt down. "They reminded me of what I went through to prove that we could be together. I don't want to get rid of them."

A quiet scuffling of feet caught their attention, and she turned to see Finland dressed in a red suit with white fur trimming, carrying a rather large sack on his back. She smiled at the sight. As a child, she had been taught that Santa Claus lived in Finland because of all the reindeer that lived there, since that was what Europeans believed. Seeing Finland sneaking out with a sack of presents was not surprising to her.

"Hey," Denmark whispered. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," Finland whispered back. "Oh, I almost forgot." He dug around in his sack and pulled out two presents. "I already set out the other presents. These are for you; Merry Christmas!"

Anya took them both and set them under the tree. "Merry Christmas, Tino. Have a safe trip around the world!"

"I will. See you later!" He exchanged a look with Denmark, and then walked out the door. A moment later, she heard sleigh bells fading away into the night.

Anya turned and gave a quizzical look to Denmark. "What was that about?"

He chuckled nervously. "Nothing. C'mon, let's get to bed."

Deciding she was too tired to argue, Anya followed Denmark to his room and crawled into the bed with him. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into his chest and fell asleep.

Denmark let out a sigh of relief when her breathing evened out. _'Tomorrow_,' he decided. And with that, he drifted off into sleep with Anya.

***Chosen***

Anya was awoken the next morning by Sealand running through the house yelling, "It's Christmas! Wake up, everyone!"

Denmark grunted in annoyance next to her. Sometime during the night, his head had fallen on her chest, but she found herself not really caring. _'Eh, it's Christmas. What are you gonna do?'_ "One of these days, I swear I'm gonna duct tape his mouth shut."

Sleepily, she planted a kiss on his forehead. "Give him a break; it's Christmas."

He grunted again. "Should've known you'd take the kid's side. And anyways, what kind of Christmas kiss is _that_?"

Pushing her down gently, he claimed her mouth as his and poked his tongue in. He explored hungrily, and only stopped when the need for air became pressing. "_That's_ a Christmas kiss," he stated.

She chuckled and rolled out of bed to head to the living room. Iceland was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Sweden was carrying a passed-out Finland to the living room, Denmark was right behind her, and Sealand was playing with a white ball of fur that she assumed was a dog. Only Norway was missing. She remembered he was a bear in the morning, and that that must not have changed over the years.

"How does Lukas like his coffee?" she asked Iceland.

"Black as midnight."

Nodding, she went into the kitchen and poured a generously large cup of coffee for the Norwegian and went into his room. Teasingly, she waved the cup in front of Norway's nose. "It's all yours if you get up," she coaxed.

With a little more coaxing and a few Norwegian curses on his part, she managed to get him out of bed and into the living room. Grumpily, Norway took the cup and began to drink.

Denmark laughed and pulled her into his lap. "You must have set the record for getting Norge out of bed."

"I think I did. Where's my medal?"

"Shut up, both of you," Norway grumbled. Though they did not say anything more, they both wore identical smug looks.

"Let's open presents!" Sealand exclaimed.

To her surprise, four presents of various sizes were dumped in her lap by a grinning Sealand. "You guys got me presents? But I didn't-"

Finland, now wide-awake, stopped her. "You came back. That's the best present you could give us."

"Go ahead and open them up," Iceland prompted.

After a moment of hesitation, she seemed the smallest one wrapped in the colors of the Icelandic flag. A big smile spread over her face. "You got me the comb I asked for all those years ago!"

Indeed, the silver comb studded with pearls would serve its purpose beautifully. Getting up, she hugged her brother tightly. "I love it, Emil. Thank you."

"Merry Christmas, Anya." He was blushing bright red as she sat down to open the next present from Finland.

"Oh, Tino, this is adorable! I love it!" Finland had given her a set of _Dannebrog_-printed pajamas, which Denmark seemed to heartily approve of. She hugged him as well, and then opened Sweden's present. "Berwald…did you make this yourself?"

He had hand-carved the image of a mermaid in a spiral upward with a dolphin. Their tails were connected to keep them together, and on the mermaid's face, she wore a peaceful smile. Sweden nodded, and she gave him an especially tight hug for his trouble. "It's fantastic, Berwald. I love it!"

"M'rry Chr'stmas, Anya."

She opened the present from Norway and gasped. "I can't believe it! You kept Spejl!"

Her old knife lay there in the wrapping, and as she picked it up, it hummed, happy to be in her grasp again. "Thank you, Lukas." She hugged him as well, careful to not spill his coffee.

Denmark spoke up. "Anya, would you follow me? I've got your gift in my room, and I forgot to wrap it."

Suspicious, Anya followed him. Before he pulled out her gift, he told her to close her eyes. She did as he asked, and heard shuffling around for a little bit. Then he said, "Alright; you can open your eyes."

Slowly, Anya opened her eyes. Her breath hitched when she saw Denmark on one knee, holding out a black-velvet box. Inside was a simple silver band engraved with rolling waves. "Matthias…"

His heart was pounding, but he forced himself to speak. "I know you and I have been separated for nearly 700 years, but during all that time, I realized that you were the one for me. You're my much better half, and without you, I wasn't complete. So, Anya Marchese, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Anya's eyes watered, and she whispered, "Yes." She hugged him tightly, and yelled out, "A THOUSAND TIMES YES!"

Meanwhile, Sealand sat on his mother's lap and asked, "Am I going to have an aunt now?"

Finland smiled. "Yes, Peter. Yes, you will."

**CLICHE ENDING, BUT I DON'T FREAKING CARE! And yes, this is a Christmas fic. I wrote this just before Christmas as a present to one of my good friends, StarryPainter on DeviantARt, and she absolutely loved it. I was going through some of my old documents, and since I (finally) figured out how to post stories, I decided to put this up as my first one. I'm so glad that people like it, and fear not, you haven't seen the last of Anya! There will be a sequel! (I think that's a reader's favorite word ^J^) **

**Epilogue coming soon! So review! **


	15. Epilogue

**Hej, guys! Here's the epilogue, but again I say, this is not the last you'll see of Anya. Don't forget about the sequel! ;3**

"Matthias, where are you taking me?"

"Just a few more miles, I promise."

Anya sighed and leaned on her elbow in the car. For the past four hours, they had been driving from Copenhagen to what looked like the middle of nowhere. However, Denmark looked excited about it, so she didn't say anything against it.

It had been 4 years since she had graduated from the University of Copenhagen, and she and her sweetheart were now happily married and living in Denmark (the land mass, not the man.) To her delight, Aiman was still around, and he was living in the mountains closest to the North Sea. He had to be very careful, however, not to be seen. There had been a few close calls, but for the most part, he was perfectly safe. Denmark couldn't have been sweeter, but for the past few months, however, he had been keeping something from her. Whenever she would confront him about it, he would simply smile and say that it was a surprise.

Then, completely out of the blue on her birthday, he had woken her up at an ungodly hour of the morning, saying that they were going to her surprise, but they had to get going early.

She had slept for a good bit of the car rise, but now that she was awake, she was anxious to get out of the car. Denmark pulled into a road way that she hadn't seen before, and drove for a while until…

"Happy birthday, _kæreste _*sweetheart*."

She let out a gasp at the house before her. It was designed to be an upscale version of a cabin, with two stories and a large yard with her favorite flowers, lilies of the valley, lining it. "This…is what you were planning?"

He grinned. "Yep. I remembered you always wanted a house in the woods, so for your birthday, I built this for you."

As soon as the car came to a stop, she flew out and went up to the ornate mahogany door. She opened it slowly, almost reverently, and stepped inside.

Tears almost sprung to her eyes. The inside was decorated with various tapestries and wooden furniture, courtesy of Sweden, no doubt, and a fire was already roaring the stone fireplace. She took off her shoes and let her toes feel the smooth wood floors beneath her.

Exploring further, she walked into the kitchen, and she really did start to cry. Everything was beautifully warm with bronze cooktops and golden brown granite for the counters. All the backsplashes were various shades of earth and wheat, and a mosaic was set into the back wall of the stove.

"So, did I do everything right?"

In response, she ran to him and kissed him fervently. When she pulled away, she burst into tears and sobbed out, "I have the best husband on the PLANET!"

"Only the planet, huh?" His hand traveled down to the waistband of her jeans and tugged slightly. "I guess I'll have to try for the universe, hm?"

She knew where this was going. Naturally, she was still a bit tired from the trip, but she figured that was going to change. Denmark kissed down her jaw and neck while fiddling with the buttons on her flannel shirt. She shivered slightly as his hands caressed her bare belly.

Yeah, that was going to change real fast.

**I just KNOW people wanted me to expand on the last scene, but I have no confidence in writing that sort of thing, so I'm not going to attempt. **

**Review! I own nothing but Anya, Aiman, Fenris, Nikolai, Rethos (as much as I hate to say so), Rosaria, her sister Amara, Angus Macmaster, and Grace Lipinski. (Get back to me in about 6 years after I've conquered Denmark. ;3) **


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